


A Grand Planned Rogues' Gala

by Aoede



Category: Mach GoGoGo | Speed Racer
Genre: F/M, Gen, Human Trafficking, Non-Consensual Tickling, Public Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoede/pseuds/Aoede
Summary: An alternate timeline of sorts forRace to Escape a Rogues' Gallery.





	1. Living Trophy

As he had once before in the comfortable confines of his own mountain laboratory, the self-proclaimed ‘Mr. Fastbucks’ stepped forward across the stage, the thump of his cane echoing. As he reached the front, standing at the edge of the crowd he swept an arm back — whereupon a bright stage light not only focused audibly on him, but the chestnut-haired eighteen-year old laid in a helpless spread atop a much more devious machine.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!” he bid to the extensive crowd. “This young man behind me is Speed Racer, driver of the Mach Five — and a little troublemaker who never seems to get the idea that he should keep his nose out of other people’s business where it doesn’t belong! If you don’t know him now, you’ll get to know him because a bunch of my colleagues and I have planned a little treat for him and you all! Heheheh!”

Speed flinched at the flood of bright light, lids fluttering as his vision adjusted — a typical “Oh…Ohhhh…!” escaping his throat at the sight of a wall-to-wall crowd, not unlike a packed stadium before a big race. He couldn’t quite make out most faces, but from the looks of the clothing, dresses, furs, canes, and monocles, it seemed like another wide swath of questionable characters. The villains were playing to their own, no surprise; though he wondered for a moment if their ultimate plan would be.

Said crowd murmured investedly, though quieted down in time for Fastbucks’ next speech. “So I bet you’re all wondering what this device is we’ve got him in here. Well, I’ll tell you…Speed may seem tough and feisty, but like everybody, he’s got a weakness — haha! And do you know what that weakness is?!”

Now there was the sound of rapid footsteps as the excitable Professor Loon came running out to join the ceremony mastering — hoisting yet another ample glass of dry red wine as he slid to a wide-stanced stop next to Fastbucks. Though it seemed fitting for the declaration to fall to him, as he finished gleefully “He’s TICKLISH!” and took a likewise generous gulp of said wine before adding “Quite very, very, INCREDIBLY ticklish, actually! In fact, he might be one of the most ticklish things on Earth! I’ve never seen anything like it; it’s quite the laugh riot! Don’t you agree?”

There seemed to be a nigh-unanimous “WHAT?” from the crowd now, followed by more murmuring, chuckling and chortling. Though no one sounded any less invested, it seemed. The chestnut-haired one’s cheeks burned as he winced, trying to look away — though in his position, he couldn’t quite completely hide his eyes. The hot light was already making him sweat, and while the cuffs kept him mostly still, his sharply sinking stomach made him fidget what little he could. He curled his fingers tight into fists, though the device held him fast by the toes — which only made his stomach churn more.

Finally, Fastbucks spoke up again. “As you can imagine, everything got a little easier from there.” A genuine laugh from the crowd. “So! With this great machine, we’re giving you all a chance to make Speed laugh and see him squirm a bit for all his meddling!” The man began swinging his cane again out of habit, slapping his palm, and making wide swings toward the device. “It’s just a quarter for a quarter of an hour, and all proceeds go to keeping this brat off the track and out of everyone’s plans! Just put in your coin, push a button, and watch the magic! There’s plenty of room for everyone so come one, come all! Come see our genius little invention, huh? I promise you won’t regret it!”

And then the crowd began to move, shuffling down from their seats and toward the machine — toward the boy whose skin began to crawl. For a moment, heart pounding, he struggled genuinely, though by now even he knew it was useless.

He twitched at the first unmistakable clinking from the slot, the clicking of the buttons, and felt the mechanized digits descend on his soles, sides, stomach, and into his sleeves. He bit his lip and tried to keep from laughing but it wasn’t a few seconds before his cheeks puffed, and he burst out giggling “Heheheheheh! HAHAHA! Heheh! HAahahahaHAHA!” with a helpless writhe — mostly his head which was supported but unrestrained. Limited by the width between his own arms, but with enough room for an apparently crowd-pleasing flail.

Time hadn’t meant anything in, well; he had no idea how long. But once again, everything sank into another endless stretch of breathless hullaballoo. The device creaked only a few times with his spastic thrashing. The relentlessly wiggling fingers, sweeping feathers, and buzzing bristles clung close and followed his every tug and kick. His stomach hurt, but it wasn’t enough to distract from the tingles that tensed his jaws, sending it popping open with more guffaws at every new clink and click.

Even with all the noise, he tensed when he heard a voice say “Well, well…long time no SEE, eh, Speed?”

Opening a watery eye, he finally recognized a face. “…S-Snake?” he uttered.

The face grinned, lids lowering as the other young man went on “Y’know, you didn’t really win that race…”

“Huh?”  
“You heard me. If Racer X hadn’t been babysitting you, you woulda smashed up almost as bad as I did before you even got back to the track!”

Despite everything, the chestnut-haired one’s teeth gritted, brows lowering. “What?! That’s not true at all!”

And suddenly, another familiar face appeared, flashing a similar smirk. “Hmhm…looks like you’re the one in a precarious position now, huh?”

“Duggery? Huh? You too?!”

The dark-haired newcomer paused for a chuckle of his own. “Eh, I go more by Zoomer Slick these days, but either way, funny running into you, Speed…” He glanced up, sharing a cordial nod with Oiler — who leaned down to resume his quarrel.

“You’re a fraud, Speed! …you oughta change your name…hmm, Speed Faker. Yeah, that sounds about right!”

“Listen! I was driving the Mach Five just as m—!” Speed began, cutting himself off with a flinch as Snake raised a hand, showily balancing four quarters between his fingers.

“Looks like I’ve got a whole dollar!”

“Hey, me too!” Slick noted, cradling another four coins. “That’s two hours, isn’t it?”

Sweat beaded on the chestnut-haired one’s temple. “…two hours…” he echoed quietly, brows finally convex as he listened to the rattle of eight coins dropping into the slot.

“That’s right, Speed — so why don’t you lighten up for a while?” Oiler bid, rather coyly pressing another button.

Speed felt feathers flitting under his arms as a whole duster of them brushed briskly over his belly. “HAHAHA! NoHO! NaHAt featheHErs, PLEASE! HAHAHAHA!”

“Boy, I’ve heard of being knocked over by a feather, but this is ridiculous!” Zoomer joked, he and Snake snickering.

“You boys think that’s a riot, you should try tickling his toes — he’ll crumple to a million pieces!” boasted a bearded, moustached man who voice rang strikingly similar to Oiler’s. The other two looked up.

“Toes, huh? If you say, so, mister…” Snake noted, finding the right buttons. 

The chestnut-haired one jumped for a moment “NO! Not my toes, pleHEHEase NOHO!” and his pitch jumped as the fingers and feathers reached his feet, sliding between his toes, followed by tiny swirling brushes. “HAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAA!” Tears beaded and fell from the corners of his squeezed shut eyes.

For a moment, they all laughed again — something that echoed through the crowd, especially when Speed laughed harder. Swiping at his own eye, Slick mused quietly “What a wreck! …but maybe we’d better get outta here, this stuff’s getting contagious!”

It was then that the trio noticed quite a few of the young women who’d crowded around the spectacle, humming and giggling and musing at the chestnut-haired one’s predicament. “Oooh, I just love his laugh! It’s so cute!” cried one.

“He’s so wriggly and giggly, it’s so funny!” chimed another, reaching out toward Speed’s side, her finger poking the air as her arm came just short.

“Hmhmhm…” Oiler slid up beside her. “You think that’s funny, watch this!” He punched a combination of buttons which set the fingers giving Speed sides ticklish squeezes while a feather danced and spun in his navel, making him twist and buck, his voice babbling while his pitch hopped between high and shrill.

“Ooh…oooooh! So crazy!” the girl said, “I love it!” She found herself bumping up against the other young man, meeting his gaze. She smiled widely as he half-wittingly slid an arm around her.

“A lovely show for a lovely lady…of course…” he bid, practically matching her blush.

“You know, in the Dark Ages, people gathered around to watch torture and execution almost every day — but I’ll bet you it was never this lively!” Deucey cheered, another couple of ladies already in arm. Quickly dumping another eight dollars in change into the machine, the man added “But in the spirit of racing, let’s see how much he can really take! Let’s see how fast he can really go, eh, girls?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” the two cheered.

The three men jockeyed for position a bit before each reaching out to push more buttons, sending the mechanized arms into a frenzy of more, faster tickles. Speed was almost literally swimming in feathers, fingers, and brushes of all kinds. His voice shrieked out between quieter, even silent stretches as his chest pounded, face red and widely tear-streaked.

His head swam a bit as he heard his own laughter mixed with his drumming pulse. But above it, above the hum and audible quirks of the machine, he heard the others’ laughter. It was a looming, jeering laugh — the fingers that weren’t poking and scritching were pointing sharply.

Speed Racer had once been a somewhat well-known, mildly respectable name. Now, here, in this den, it was a joke. He was a joke. A living toy, a puppet paraded in front of his rivals and enemies. The tickling was fierce enough to blend his laughing with screaming — which only made everyone else laugh harder, heavier, more sneering and scornful.

Now far from his first glass of wine, Loon let out a hooting holler, jabbing Fastbucks in the side with his free elbow. “This is terrific! We’re rich — and Speed Racer is as good as finished! Just look at him! Look at him now!”

“Yes, I can see that!” Fastbucks snapped back. “But Professor, we do — er, we should probably wrap up our little exposé before he burns out like a battery, huh?”

“Ooooh, you’re right, we can’t let him die before the party does! BUT —” the wily monocled one rushed to flip a switch on the machine’s backside “that’s why I insisted on including THIS little gem! Er, just one moment everyone!”

Suddenly, the cuffs snapped apart, the machine opening up underneath the chestnut-haired one and swallowing him up, at which the crowd gasped. The doors swung shut, and everyone could hear more momentum within the metal.

Speed had time to utter one quick “Ohh!” before thudding to a cushioned spot, being pushed to an awkward sit and quickly stripped of his clothes. He grunted as he was yanked to a perceivable full soapy tub and more slowly though thoroughly scrubbed — which tickled almost as much as the main mechanism. He received a few cold splashes of water to rinse, a straw prodded in his mouth with some more potable stuff to quickly gulp before being yanked out, back to the previous cushioned spot for a fairly thorough and equally tickly oily massage which he found himself truly grateful for, especially for the ache-relieving rub down his back.

Once toweled and briefly air-blown dry, he found himself dressed and hoisted back into the restraints, which resumed their iron grip. He half-winced at the pinch on his toes as they were grabbed and pulled apart again.

“THERE! Good as new, hmm? All right, let’s keep this party going! Wahooo!” Loon shouted, flipping another switch to resume the machine’s coin-fed operations.

After some gawking and blinking, the festivities quickly resumed — especially once Ace eagerly set the fingers, feathers, and brushes back to the chestnut-haired one’s freshly cleaned feet. 

“NOHOHOHOO! NAHAHAT THAHAT! NAHAT THEHERE!” Speed howled. “PLEHEASE PLEASE PLEHEEEEASE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GAAHAHAHA! PLEHEASE STAHAP! STAHAHAAAAAAAAP!”

“…and YOU said it’d be too cumbersome and too expensive,” the white-haired one jabbed. “Look who’s laughing now! …well, Speed is, but that’s the point!”

“You know you really are a total nutjob,” Fastbucks mused, “I always liked that about you!”

“Well, they don’t call me ‘Professor Loon’ for nothing!” Loon noted proudly, sipping his wine. “Orrr maybe it is just a coincidence — I forget! But who CARES?! This is the best, craziest, most successful thing we’ve ever done and it’s ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIC!”

“HAhaha! You SAID IT!” the more fully bearded one clinked a glass with his. “To Speed and his ridiculously popular weakness! And to us for being so clever as to make a pretty penny — or should I say, a ton of shiny quarters on it?! Ha!”

“HahaHAaa! You SAID IT!” Loon echoed, tipping back his glass.


	2. International Grand Punition

After a lengthy tour across the continental United States, the group decided to debut Speed in Europe — Paris, France, of course, being an ideal starting point. Loon, Fastbucks, and the others rented a warehouse for their machinery and the fanciest hotel nearby for themselves.

Late one afternoon a few days before the night of their Parisian premiere, there was a swift knock on the door. A mook opened it, turning to announce “There’s a Mr. Meglaton to see you, gentlemen!”

Fastbucks, ever the envoy, approached him with a grin and a handshake. “Mark! I hadn’t expected you, so good to see you, old friend! But what on Earth are you doing here?”

“Oh, me? I’m in town for the art, of course! But I couldn’t help overhearing there was a certain new masterpiece going on display Saturday night.”

“Heheh,” the moustached bearded one paused, plucking his cigar out for a moment to tap it off, “You overheard right. I assume you came because you wanted to get a sneak peek at the goods, huh? Well, you’re a good man — I would probably do so myself if that were the case! But, come, let me show you our little prize…”

They took a limousine to the warehouse, whereupon the door opened to reveal not only the usual tickle machine but other surrounding cranes and conveyors, as well as a large round tub in the middle of it all serving as a hot bath for the chestnut-haired boy. At the noise, he lifted his head, turning it — and with a double-take, yelping as he crossed his arms over his chest, hands sliding to his lap.

“Oh, relax, Speed, Mark here isn’t going to do anything to you — haha! Except maybe deposit a healthy amount of francs into your machine in two nights, isn’t that right?” Fastbucks said, turning.

“That’s right,” Meglaton affirmed. “And I’ve brought some art-minded friends who’ll certainly be interested in making a generous deposit as well…” He stepped closer, savoring his loom over the boy. With a blink, his smirk widened. “It’s so good to see you like this, Speed…”

Speed’s cheeks were already quite flushed from the hot water, though he leaned forward a bit, head lowering, brows convex.

“Last time you gave me quite a story,” Mark went on, “boldy lied to my face before trying to burn me alive with a rocket engine, mowing down everybody in my complex with a machine gun, and deliberately disobeyed me by using my own fire suppression system against me! …And now look where we both are! What do you think about THAT, hmm?”

With another chuckle, Fastbucks batted a hand, bidding “Don’t worry about scolding him, he knows what he’s done…isn’t that right, Speed? But now let’s show this nice man how your machine and everything works, huh?” Taking another chomp and puff of his cigar, the moustached monocled man explained “In the downtime, especially if we’re not going to show him for a few days, we like to let him soak a bit…it takes care of his muscles even better than the emergency refresher massage, plus—” he dipped his fingers into the liquid, rubbing them a bit, “— we put lots of exotic oils in with the hot water to keep his skin extra sensitive so he’ll squeal nicely for the patrons. Heh!”

“What’s all this then?” Meglaton asked, pointing to the other machinery.

“Aha, I was just about to show you!” Grabbing a ceiling-wired control, the lighter-haired man pressed a button, which sent a cruder pair of hands to grab the boy, hoisting him out of the water and depositing him onto a nearby conveyor where he was dried and dressed, and promptly slid back into the grips of the main machine which snapped shut.

Flipping another switch at the back of the machine, Fastbucks walked around leisurely to the front, he pressed a series of the buttons in a very specific sequence. 

“And once we make sure the machine is in tip-top condition, when we don’t have anybody to input anything, we use a series of presets! This way we make sure that it and Speed get put through their paces so they’re both ready for a long night of fun! This one will go through every single setting twice to make sure it’s working!”

Mark watched with a gleaming grin as mechanized fingers swarmed Speed’s feet for several minutes, followed by feathers, followed by brushes — all sorts, from the larger scrub brushes to smaller paintbrushes to the tiny whirling ones that slid neatly between his toes, making him screech. 

Meglaton put hands to his ears as the noise was amplified by the wide walls and tall ceiling. “And what happens if it doesn’t work?” he asked, half-flinching though his grin never left, arms lowering and sliding into a fold across his chest.

“The machine ITSELF will make a note of it!” Fastbucks said with an eager flail of his cane, “Someone will come out to fix it, we’ll get notified, and then we set it into motion again! Heheheh… Especially if we’ve got a lot of time between bookings! Then we might have to give Speed another bath — but that doesn’t happen all too often. In fact, everything’s been working absolutely perfectly for weeks now! And we’ve gotten a ton of quarters, and we plan to rake in plenty of francs, pesetas, lira, deutchsmarks, and guilders! It’s going to be fantastic!”

Now the plain-lipped bearded one was chuckling rather maniacally. “It sounds like an absolutely magnificent trip! I only wish I was coming with you, but I’ll tell you what — I’ll be at the demonstration Saturday without question if I can’t make it to Italy I will be there in Holland to hurl a ton of guilders into this thing!”

“Hahaha! And I certainly hope to see you there!” the moustached one said. “Good to see you, Meglaton! So good to see you!” Pausing, he stepped closer, reaching up and prodding at the chestnut-haired one’s shoulder with his cane. “You know, we’ve also been experimenting with a system to adjust his position, let the guests spread him out or hang him up or down as they like — but even Loon says that might make him sick and ruin the experience. Still, we’re at least thinking of trying to change things up a little bit…”

“Not exactly an Arc de Triomphe,” Mark noted. “But I agree, I think you should arch his back up a little more. It’ll give the arms more room to work underneath, and in addition, it’ll push his stomach and ribs out a little more, make them more ticklish that way.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Fastbucks said “You hear that, Speed?” and gave his ribs several prods with his cane before the flurry of fingers and feathers came at them. The boy only twitched, laughing; then writhing as usual.

“HAHAhahahaha! AHAHA! Heheheh! HahahahaHAHAHA!”

“Hmmm…it sounds like his skin could use a bit more tenderizing, I think…” Snatching up the ceiling-mounted control, he pressed another button that released Speed from the cuffs and into the cruder hands that dropped him to a conveyor where he was promptly undressed again, and carried over to the customized grips of another oiling massager. It ticklishly rubbed and squeezed him down for several more minutes before depositing him back in the tub, dumping another couple bucketfuls of different oils into the mix.

The chestnut-haired one leaned over the edge of the tub in a slump, with a tired groan of “…ohhh…ohhhhh….” He blinked slowly with heavy lids as he watched the two men walk out the door, still chatting casually as it slammed shut behind them.  
___

Come Saturday evening at the Grand Palais des Champs-Élysées, Speed had barely returned to his bonds after a refresher wash when he heard a familiar voice just out of his sightline. “Speed!”

“Racer X!” the boy said, turning his head, watching as the man walked up beside him; he wore his usual skintight black mask, though now, too, a pressed blue shirt, black tie, and white suit, making him look like a rather dapper luchador. “You’re here?”

“Yes — I’ve been looking for you. I practically scoured the whole North American continent looking for you until I got word that your captors had taken you to Europe. I’d hoped I wasn’t too late and now I’m glad that I wasn’t.” Pausing, the masked man glanced around warily before fishing a handful of coins out of his pocket and sending them through the coin slot. “I hate to do this to you, but I’ve got to play along or they’ll get wise that something’s up.”

“Huh? No, wait, don’t — not you too!” 

With a quiet monosyllabic chuckle at the back of his throat and a faint smirk, Racer X eyed the buttons before pushing a few. The first sent a pair of hands to squeeze relentlessly at the chestnut-haired one’s waist, making him jump into an arch before sinking back down and rocking ever more frantically as much as the cuffs would allow. “AHAHAHAA! NahaHAhat — nahat that, PLEASE!”

The next added two long feathers tracing and sweeping up, down, and around his stomach, before the third set a tiny whirly brush burrowing in his navel, making his fingers splay almost as much as his toes were before snapping into fists again.

“HAHAHAHA! HahahahaHAHA! AHAaaAA! HahaHAHA!”

“There. Now I should be able to talk to you without raising too much suspicion,” the man explained. “Anyway, listen Speed: I’m going to try and find a way to get you out of this and back home to your family where you belong — but I have to be careful. If those men and women get any idea I’m here to help you they might whisk you off to a more secure location and I’d never see you again. But for now I’ll do my best, I PROMISE you that!”

The chestnut-haired one could barely hear him over his own laughter, but certain words rang out more clearly. “YouHOUHOU — youhou’ll — you’ll geHEt me out ohof this? Thahahank youhou!” He winced with a helpless grin. “Please huhurry! I – I can’t tahake much moHOre of this!”

“Just a little more — hang in there, Speed!” Lastly, with a mildly mischievous aside glance, the masked man quickly pressed another three buttons. More spinning brushes and mechanized fingers went to the boy’s ribs; another smaller pair of feathers flitted and twirled under his arms, making him thrash and throw his head back.

“NOOHOHO NOHO NOnonoNONOooOOHO! HAHAHAAA!”

“I’ll see you again soon, Speed. Don’t give up!” With that, Racer X stepped away, stealthily slipping back into the crowd. Then he jolted to a stop, turning as he heard the sound of a metal utensil striking a wine glass. “Huh?”

“Attention, _madames_ and _messieurs_!” It was Fastbucks. Loon again stood close by, taking more swigs of his merlot. “And now it is time for the special event of the evening I told you about earlier! Tonight, you’ve been making Speed laugh himself out of his mind — but now we’re going to raise the stakes and make it much more interesting! Here, let me show you…”

Loon promptly wheeled in a television set and turned it on, turning the dial until it showed a car parked in what appeared to be a giant metal lean-to. Speed could just barely make out the image from the angle he was pinned to. “What’s going on? What is that thing?”

“This ingenious contraption is called a Hydraulic Car Crusher — and it does exactly what you’d think. Watch this!”

When he made a palm-up gesture to the screen, the machine came to life; with an ear-grating hum, the giant metal slab top lowering slowly but steadily. It pressed down on the car’s roof and kept going, the windows bursting into thousands of glass shards in an instant, tires popping and flattening all at once. The attendees uttered a collective gasp, which segued into more rapid murmuring.

The chestnut-haired one drew in a sharp incredulous breath himself when next the Mach Five was hoisted up by a forklift in the previous vehicle’s place. “Ohhh! No, they can’t destroy my car like that! They CAN’T!” He impulsively tugged on his cuffs again with a reflexive buck.

Now the wily monocled one slowly walked across the room to the machine near side and lay a microphone with a long cord by Speed’s jaw. The boy glanced anxiously at it and leaned away.

The fuller-bearded one continued, his cane once again in an enthusiastic flail “We’ve set it up so that the crusher will receive a signal transmitted from that microphone and is ready to activate at the sound of Speed’s voice — heheh, or more specifically, his laugh!”

“What?” the chestnut-haired one uttered. “No! But that means —!”

Loon turned, looming over him with another high-pitched cackle, finishing “It means that if you even let one tiny giggle slip, you can say goodbye to your precious little wonder car!” Chuckling dryly, he reached out and gave Speed’s underarm a few brief index finger scritches, making him twitch and slowly wriggle with teeth lightly gritted.

“Mmmnn!”

Fastbucks added with an inviting spread of his arms “So we invite you all to come back around and try to get him laughing again! It’ll be trickier this time since he’ll be fighting it — but you’ve all seen just how pathetically ticklish he is, so even then the odds are low enough to be well in your favor but not so low that it won’t be a challenge! Come on up and try your luck! Let’s see who’ll hit the jackpot tonight, shall we?”

Stepping back as a line began to form and push him farther down it, the masked man thought aloud quietly to himself “Drat! I’ve got to get back over to Speed — that way I can stall for time with his less ticklish spots while I work out how to sabotage that microphone setup. I just hope he doesn’t crack before I can get another turn. Hang in there Speed, hang in! You’ve got to hold on; we can’t let the Mach Five get wrecked…”

At the front of the line for the time being were Mark Meglaton, maniacally grinning, and another man with coiffed white hair and a thin black moustache, dressed in a gray suit, pink vest, and white shirt with black bowtie. Like the gambler showman, he clenched a cigar in his teeth. With a glance at the other man, he brushed past him to stand in front of the machine.

“Heh. What a sorry sight!” the white-haired one scoffed, plucking his cigar out with two fingers to puff out a mouthful of smoke before biting down on it again. “It’s too bad there’s nowhere for you to run and no clever disguise you can put on to fool me, huh? You’re a little sitting duck — or should I say a spread eagle?”

However, before either of the two could begin to bear down on the chestnut-haired boy, still more familiar, shifty-looking faces barged their way through one after the other. “Out of my way! Move, move!” a bald man with a reddish-brown goatee ordered gruffly. He let out a dry chuckle as he and a clean-shaven slightly-longer-reddish-brown-haired man stood by the machine, leaning over its occupant.

“Sooo…” the latter began with a toothy grin, “What was all that about honor? Heh, looks like you lost yours in a bet! Bet you feel pretty stupid now, don’cha? Heheheh!”

Speed gritted his teeth, pulling forward on the wrist cuffs a hair “Even if I’m tied up like this, I ca — NNnnnhnn…” and promptly tugging back with a helplessly grinning cringe as the bald-headed one grabbed his side and squeezed it repeatedly.

Turning, the goateed one gave a snort. “Save the small talk for later, Shade! Or if you’re going to anyway, at least get to work while your mouth is running!”

“Eh, you’re right, Scrounge,” Shade said, positioning himself across from the bald-headed one, matching his timed pinches — before they were both bumped out of the way by the previous two.

“We were here first, you simpletons!” Elegantor proclaimed.

“And I was here before you — I was here DAYS ago, I should get first pick!” Meglaton butted in, vocally and physically.

“Well, while you’re all arguing about who goes first, I’M going to start giving this pathetic nuisance a little payback!” interjected a more wilder-white-haired man with a narrow black diamond-shaped eyepatch. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it, old man!” yelled a light-brown-haired boy in a light purple jacket and red-and-darker-red striped train conductor’s cap. “Back off, I’m getting first dibs on payback for this nosy jerk wrecking MY father’s car!”

“Who said you have anything to say about it?” retorted another line-cutting eyepatched man, wearing a safari outfit minus hat. “Forget your little hand-me-down — this kid robbed me of a set-for-life fortune!”

As the group standing around him grew, Speed felt more beads of sweat drip onto his jaw. He quickly winced, lifting his head, then immediately laying it back as far as he could, letting it hang with a reflexive nervous sigh.

The seven adversaries now turned toward him — though almost cartoonishly pivoted back around at the sound of yet another voice.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen! C’mon, now there’s no need to bicker at each other like this!” Once again, it was Snake — now with the Car Acrobatic Team’s long-toothed captain in tow. Raising a palm-up hand, he went on “We’re all just here to humiliate Speed so bad he won’t dare show his face anywhere for the rest of his life — and we get the bonus of seeing the Mach Five crushed flatter than a crepe! We can all work this out, you’ll see!” His glinting sneer seemed to project right through the giant shades on his helmet.

With one last shared glance between the lot of them, they nodded, quietly taking positions around the machine. Scrounge and Shade stuck to scritching and prodding under the chestnut-haired one’s arms; the two men with eyepatches stood just in front of them, digging into Speed ribs — the Egyptologist switching to a bone brush from his pocket, sweeping at them like a new site find.

Already, the chestnut-haired one’s lips were quivering over slightly puffed cheeks, letting out a muffled “Mm…mmm~mm….MMmm!” as he tensed though still twitched. When Mark and Rudolph lifted their wiggling, raking fingers from his stomach to deal more side squeezes, he jumped. His held breath puffed sharply out through his teeth, and though he pressed his lips back together immediately, a subtle chuckle escaped his throat before he could catch it. “MmmMMmmmHMhm!” 

He’d tried his hardest to keep his head turned, mouth away from the mic — but it was apparently quite high-tech and caught the noise clearly regardless. There was a brief collective gasp from the crowd as another loud short whir blasted from the TV speakers. Speed and his attackers all looked up over at it, the boy through a half-flinch.

The car crusher’s top slab had lowered in an albeit small jolt. It was enough to keep the chestnut-haired one’s cold pulse-pounding attention while Oiler turned to his captain, eyeing the feather in his racing cap. “Lemme just borrow this a minute, heh…” Snake then began flitting and tracing it across the chestnut-haired one’s sole and toes, twirling it between them before continuing with the quill point. Captain Terror said nothing, but reached forward to tickle the boy’s other foot fairly deftly.

Speed jumped again, twitching more violently with eyes shut harder “…no! PLEASE…not – not that!” he managed to bleat out. He felt the air helplessly dart up out of his chest and throat when Flash Jr. began flurrying fingers all around his neck and shoulders. “HMmmHM! MmHMhmhmhm!”

The car crusher’s whir ended with a small sickening clunk as it made contact with the Mach Five’s windshield, sending the impact shock down through the chassis. Lastly, an eerie delayed vertical crack appeared about halfway down.

Marker glimpsed the damage eagerly. “We’re almost there, keep at it, everybody!”

“Noho…! You cahan’t!” the chestnut-haired one blurted, and heard an additional burst of cracking glass, at one point sounding as if part of it had chipped clean off.

“Can’t what?” Snake replied, with a grin that seemed to match his namesake. “We’re not doing anything — like those two guys said, YOU’RE the one that’s gonna crush your car up, not us! Heheheheh…!”

The nine rivals then all shared his chuckle, at which even the corners of Speed’s mouth curled up further, though he swiftly bit his tongue, then his lip, head in a slow flail.

“It’s no use, I won’t be able to do anything else from here,” Racer X observed, shifting his gaze to the television screen. “Unless…maybe…hmm..”

Finally, it was all too much. The chestnut-haired one’s muscles gave out in his exhaustion, jaws slacking as a torrent of laughter burst past his lips. “HAHAHAHA! AHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAHAHAHAAA!”

Everyone else quickly looked to the television screen — but strangely, the Crusher was silent and still. Then the image on the screen itself seemed to flicker and buzz with static until it vanished, leaving a blank screen.

Racer X had vanished as well, moments earlier, now on a call on a phone out of sight and earshot — speaking with a man at a red horseshoe-shaped desk at a secret office whose inconspicuous secret entrance was within sight range of the Arc de Triomphe on Place Charles de Gaulle. As he glanced over his shoulder toward the main hall, a voice rang from the mouthpiece “Did it work?”

Sliding the earpiece back over his ear, the man noted “Roger that, Chief! From the sound of it, the signal was successfully interrupted and the Mach Five won’t sustain any more damage. Were you able to locate the source as well?”

“Yes, we’ve got the location deciphered now and we’re sending agents to retrieve the Mach Five. What about Speed?”

“Speed’s still out there, I can hear him! I’ll do my best to stall — do you think you can get that EMP sent out soon?”

“It’s been extremely tough — we have to time it when it’ll do the least damage. But that should be soon enough, just give us five more minutes!”

Meanwhile, the crowd — including the small mob around the tickle machine — still stood looking stunned. “Huh? What happened? What’s going on?!” Oiler hissed.

“No fair!” Marker griped, balling his hands into shaking fists before pounding them into the air. “We were so CLOSE!”

“What the hell happened?” Femur growled, “What did you idiots do?!”

The top-hatted one was ever the showman. “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize! It seems as if we’ve had a bit of a technical error — but don’t let that ruin the evening!” He turned to the nine, adding “And as for you all, well, unfortunately you didn’t get to see the Mach Five destroyed — but you did make Speed laugh so you all win!”

“What’s the prize?” Snake asked, then immediately continued, “Nevermind!” with a brief glance at his Captain, he stepped forward, saying “We want to join you!”

“Whaaat? ALL of you? Join us?” echoed the thinner-bearded one, still clutching his wine glass.

“Sure! If you’ve got room for a few more, we want in!” Snake expounded. “Even if you had a little hiccup with your car-wrecking show, toying with Speed like this is just too much fun! We want in!”

“Hmmm…” Fastbucks uttered thoughtfully, stroking his beard with a glance aside. “I suppose there’s enough money for a few more in the group. And we could always use some extra helping hands…”

“Please, old friend!” Meglaton entreated, stepping forward with outstretched upward palms, “I told you I had plans — but I’ll cancel them, every one! This is far more important, and even more fun than negotiating priceless art deals! You must let me on! And I assure you, I…” He trailed off, turning, glancing at the others, then facing forward with a small nod and slightly wider grin “WE can be of great use to you!”

“Mmm, well, I suppose the more the merrier!” Loon mused, looking up at his fellow man with monocle. “As long as we don’t all start fighting over things —”

“What’s there to fight about?” Oiler said, gesturing to the chestnut-haired one. “Torture Speed, make money, enjoy life! Nothing to disagree with on that…is there?”

The others quickly shook their heads.

“Fine, then it’s settled! We’ll —” the top-hatted one began. 

Then the lights went out. As more shocked noises rustled across the rest of the attendees, the tickle machine itself seemed to take a hit, cuffs snapping open — though the hatch didn’t, leaving Speed to drop onto the closed doors, and slide off the metal to the ground in a heap.

From a far corner of the room, the masked man muttered to himself “It worked! He’s free — now I’ve just got to get to him! …Get up, Speed, come on! Get up and get out of there, I’ll meet you!”

Even after so long, in the confusion, the boy mumbled an “Ohhh…ohh…oh!” and gave his head a clearing shake, struggling to his feet at a lean. He stumbled a bit, with a few pivots, but managed to break into a haphazard sprint — and was immediately blocked by a wall of rivals. He turned, but only bumped into more men.

“Going somewhere?” Flash Jr. taunted.

“Where do you think you’re going, Speed?” echoed Snake, his grin no wider though his voice sounded outright slimy.

The chestnut-haired one fell back to his usual fight-training — but felt tickles at his back that made him tense and jump, whirling around, though he couldn’t escape it. Arms raised to aimed punches only left him open to knee-buckling squeezes at his sides; his arms and wrists then grabbed tightly, more fingers spidering up to ribs and underarms, sliding out to squeeze and dig at his stomach.

“Here! Get him! Pin him down, like — there! There you go…” came Loon’s voice as ropes were handed over. 

In minutes, Speed was trussed up nicely as usual, ropes around his waist, wrists crossed behind his back. Unlike before, they made sure to tie his legs. When all was said and done, the boy lay on his stomach, only able to tiredly wriggle before flopping on his side, breathing hard.

“Oh, no!” Racer X exclaimed quietly as he finally came close enough to see what had happened. “There are more of them? I hadn’t counted on that! Don’t give up, Speed!”

But the chestnut-haired one only let out a genuine whine that segued into helpless chuckles as Marker and Oiler crouched, tickling his feet — the latter still bearing his Captain’s feather tracing his sole and prodding his toes with the quill end.

“AaaaHAHAhahahaha! Haha!” Speed squeezed his eyes shut — though they opened, blinking when he felt his two showboating captors hoist him up like a crash dummy.

“Please excuse the mess, _madames_ and _messieurs_!” Fastbucks announced. “But now that we’ve got our main attraction wrapped up, we’ll do our best to get back on schedule! And because of the technical difficulties, as another little treat, the rest of the evening is completely _gratis_! Extra wine, cheese, bread, and of course, Speed Racer!”

There was much cheering and clapping. As the machine whirred back to life, Speed was carried by the lot of them and tossed through the metal doors, the hands inside quickly tearing away the ropes before defaulting to their usual routine. The chestnut-haired one was back in cuffs in no time — and at the mercy of the usual fingers, feathers, and brushes.

“AHAHAHA! HAHAHA! HMHMHMHM! HAHA! NOHO NOHO! STAHAAP!”

Back at the phone, Racer X held the receiver with a hanging head.

“Did you get him? Did you get Speed?”  
“No, Chief — I ran into some interference as well. There were more men surrounding him than I expected, there was no way I could get to him without blowing my cover. And they’d already got poor Speed tied up like a turkey!”  
“Well, at least we can return the Mach Five to the Racer Family and we can let them know where their son is. We’re not giving up on him yet, do you hear me?”  
“I hear you, Chief! Believe me, I won’t stop until Speed’s out of their hands one way or another!”  
“Excellent work, Number Nine! I’ll be in touch!”  
“Catch you later, Chief — Nine out!”


	3. Insinsere

After the interruptions at the Grand Palais, the now expanded group decided to ditch their previous hotel and warehouse rental, and settled on a much less disclosed location for themselves and Speed. Despite the rounds ‘on the house’, they had made more than enough money on the event.

While they did run the machine and the boy through their paces, when not in use, they kept both locked up — the former in a basement room with a padlock, the latter in a spare room on a large spare mattress to which he was tied down quite traditionally; arms out, bare feet splayed.

He’d actually managed to fall asleep, when suddenly the door’s creak got his lids fluttering. Opening his eyes, he saw his snarkiest rival yet again standing at the foot of the mattress; he still wore the yellow-and-red striped helmet with oversized black visor hanging down like elongated aviator shades. He’d never seen his eyes, yet his unseen gaze always seemed to pierce him just the same. Beside him, the surprisingly quiet Captain Terror, whose giant grin also seemed somewhat tamer these days, with a softer sort of mischievous glint.

“Nnh…Snake? What’re you…?” the chestnut-haired one mumbled sleepily. In seconds, he felt the familiar tingle on his foot, first from Oiler, then from Terror. They worked in the same sort of tandem they had in Paris, his rival wielding that unbearably tickly crowning feather. “Nohoho, Snahake dohon’t!” he chuckled helplessly, wiggling his foot and trying to curl his toes, though they swiftly dug under them. “NoHO! NaHAt my toes! LeHEheave my feeHEEt aloHOHOne!”

“Not a chance, Speed! And d’you know why?” Snake began calmly, with a chuckling snort, “Because these feet of yours won’t see an accelerator or a brake or a clutch or a winner’s podium ever again! Just…tickles!”

“Tickle, tickle…” Terror now echoed, seemed to share a glance with his protégé.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” Oiler chimed, the two of them snickering.

“NOhoHOHOhoho, STOP! StAHAhahahahap!”

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle!” the Captain continued.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tiiiiickle!” Snake added.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, TICKLE!”  
“Tickletickletickletickletickletickletickleticklllle!”

“HAHA! NOHOHO! NOHO! HAHAHA! AHAHAHAAA!” Speed howled, whipped into a frenzy as he thrashed what little he could, watering eyes popping open before they squeezed shut again with flail of his head.

“They’ll just be tickled ‘til the end of time — and there’s NOTHING you can do about it Speed! Heheh…” Oiler reiterated.

“AHAHAHAHA! BUhut I thoHOught —! I THOHOUGHT —!” the boy tried to speak.

“Such a weak little racer,” mused Terror, his fingers still spidering and raking in all the worst spots at all the worst moments, “I respected you once. But how can I now? Knowing this? Silly little Speed…you’ve been defeated. And so amusingly.”

“CaHAhaHAptaHAin, PLEHEHEASE! Dohon’t — don’t — DOHOHON’T —!” the chestnut-haired one choked out. “HAHAHA!”

“Hmmm…seems to me we’ve got a lot of time on our hands — or should I say, your feet? And everywhere else…since whatever you did to mess things up in Paris. I think we oughta experiment a little…see what really drives you crazy…even more than we already know…even more than YOU know!”

“WhaHAHAt?! Noho! You CAHAn’t!”  
“Shows what you know! We can, and we will! Captain, my Captain, let’s talk to Fastbucks about a few things, shall we?”

“I don’t see why not — and I’ve got an idea…” the leader of the Car Acrobatic Team replied.

That was what led to the boy being at the mercy of a saltwater wash and the eager lapping of goat tongues when next the Masked Racer did manage to find him — having convinced the top-hatted one that he was on the verge of joining their ranks as well.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAAAHA! HAHAHAAA!” Speed still roared with laughter, eyes in a half-open squint over tearstained jaws, head flailing every now and again.

With a bit of his usual arm and cane flailing, Fastbucks explained “We’ve been trying a few things, seeing what really tickles his feet the most — we went through all kinds of feathers and brushes last night, we were using insects this morning, and now we’ve had him licked by cats, dogs, cows, and now goats.”

Approaching the near end of the mattress, the monocled one stepped between the boy’s feet and the animals. Pausing for a few moments, he curled his fingers, scritching and raking up his spit-coated soles, making him guffaw again. “AaaHAHA! HAHAhahaha!”

“The fun thing is, even after all of this, even after being tickled for a long time; he’s still just as ticklish! It’s a regular laugh riot, eh, Speed?”  
“HAHAhahahahaHAHAAA!”  
“Haha! I’m glad you agree!”

“Hmm…” Racer X uttered typically, a finger briefly to his jaw.

“What’s the matter? What are you thinking?”

“Why are you focusing on his feet?”  
“Well, a racer races mostly with his feet, doesn’t he?”

“Yes — but his arms do all the steering, don’t forget. And the shifting! For all the pedal pushing, most of racing’s greatest maneuvers are done with the arms…and the hands…and the fingers…” He leaned with his poised over secretly-his-younger-brother’s sleeves, slightly wiggling. His mask barely hid his grin.

“Why you’re right! I didn’t even think of it that way — excellent point, Racer X!”

“So I think you should focus on his arms.”  
“And his feet at the same time?”  
“Well, since it’s clear you’ve tickled his feet well and good for a long time, I think under his arms need to catch up — don’t you think?”

The chestnut-haired one’s lip was quivering almost cartoonishly, his eyes and torso and fingers, too, twitching what little they could. “No — Racer X, please! Don’t do this! Please help me! PLEASE — noho, pleHEase, nahat there!” He couldn’t help already smiling with a half-flinch even before the Masked Racer set his fingers flailing. “AAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAAA! NO!”

“Should we get the feathers, then?”  
“Feathers, fingers, brushes, goats — everything!”

“WhaHAHAt?! NOHOO!” Speed howled.

One of said goats bleated, seeming to stumble as the bearded man stepped back, bumping into it. Quickly, the top-hatted one cupped a hand, giving the boy’s nearer pit a splash of the saltwater — if somewhat needlessly — before tugging the goat up to his side. The hooved one let out a grunt as it sniffed and might have shrugged before it lay into the new stretch of skin as heartily as before.

The chestnut-haired one tensed with a choppy melodic sort of scream before resuming helpless guffaws. Struggling to focus on his savior-and-idol-turned-just-another-tormentor, he blurted out scratchily “YouHOU proHOmised you would HEHElp meheHEheee! You PROMIHISED!”

Glancing down for a moment, the Masked Racer caught Fastbucks’s eye. “At this rate he’ll be a mess in a few minutes — do you still have him bathed regularly?”  


“Of course we do — but we still let the machine do it. We’ll have to set it up to give him a run through.”  
“Why don’t you go do that now? I’ll hold him down for a few minutes — then maybe if you need some help carrying him I can help you with that, too!”

“Good idea, I’ll be right back!” With that, the cane-carrying one sidestepped the other goat and hurried out the door. 

Watching him ‘til he disappeared around the corner, Racer X leaned over, shoving the animal away from the boy; leaning his head closer to his ear again, he hissed “Sorry, Speed, but again, I have to act like I’m one of them or the jig’ll be up —!”

Amid heavy panting, the chestnut-haired one finished “And you’ll lose me and I’ll be stuck with these loons for another eternity or two being tickle-tortured out of my mind — I GET IT! …but…thanks, anyway…”

“I’m so sorry, Speed.”

Speed glanced at him, slyly, even for his exhaustedly drooping lids. “Not so much.”

The Masked Racer met his eyes; then quickly averted his gaze and mumbling “If you only knew…” Then added more loudly “You are a riot, though,” and finally resumed their stare. “It is tempting.”

“It’s EMBARRASSING!” the boy lamented, letting his eyes close.

“It’s a risk of the sport, Speed — a risk of the art of sport itself. You’re likely to win, but you’re likely to get embarrassed, too, in a lot of places in front of a lot of people.”

“Not for something unrelated to racing!”  
“Sometimes. It depends on how low some people are willing to go for their sport.”  
“Yes, well they’ve made a sport of me, haven’t they?”  
“Yes, unfortunately they have. And unfortunately it’s much more fun than racing.”

“How could you —?!” the boy began, only to launch into more laughter as Racer X returned to tickling him mercilessly as the bearded one returned. “HAHAHAHA! AAAHA! STOP!”

“Okay, the machine is ready to go!” Fastbucks noted, standing at the foot of the mattress. “Help me untie him and we’ll haul him off to get scrubbed up nicely!”

“I can hold him just fine,” the masked man insisted, and once he’d unbound the boy’s limbs, hoisted him over his shoulder like a rolled up bedsheet. “See? Now which way to your wash-‘im machine?”  


“Just down this hall, follow the stairs to the basement. You’ll see the machine on the back wall, just toss him in and it’ll do the rest. Then come back and we’ll go back to discussing the finer things and maybe a contract or two, hmm?”

“Sounds good,” the younger man chimed. “See you in a few minutes.”

“Please, Racer X!” Speed piped up again, brows convex. “Help me escape! He’s leaving us alone — you could let me go now and I could get out just fine. You could make something up and escape yourself just fine, couldn’t you? This could all be over…” He paused with a snort, brows angled again. “Or did he really convince you to join their gang? Do you really like torturing me that much?”

Both were quiet as the machine and its open top, gears audibly grinding, mechanisms waiting just below. Racer X tipped his shoulder forward, sending the chestnut-haired one into a bridal-style flop across his arms, poised above the thing like a load of dirty laundry above a primed top-loader.

“I may or may not,” the elder one chose to say, “And I may or may not know a whole lot more than you think.”

“I KNOW you know more than I do!” Speed cried.

“Then you’ll trust me on that knowledge — and I really do wish I could let you go, Speed, but NOT NOW!”

“It’s NEVER NOW—!” the chesnut-haired one found himself genuinely whining back before another signature yelp of “Ohhhh!” as he slipped into the machine, getting one last glimpse of his secretly-older-brother before the arms seized and disrobed him, sliding him into hot sudsy water as callously as an unconscious basket of weekly wash.  
___

More like a piece of toast, Speed popped up in the machine’s cuffs. Though now he only shivered a bit, waiting in the cooled storage room. He eventually heard mushrooming chatter, though rather than the Masked Racer, it was Meglaton and Marker Jr.

“Surprised to see us, Speed?” the latter asked with a snickering snort.

“I think he’s just happy to see us — he looks like a mutt in a cage! Don’t you think?” the elder Mark mused.

“I think you’re right!” Flash said, “Now where’s that button?” Finding it, he opened the cuffs. Meglaton caught the boy by the arms, the younger captor quickly grabbing his legs. Together they hauled him back up the stairs like an old rug. Much like a neglected puppy, though, Speed didn’t even try to resist them.

“Back to your nice bed, Speed, won’t that be fun?” Mark even cooed, catching his eyes.

“As long as the goats are gone,” their captive found himself quietly adding.

“Yes, our lease on the animals is up — but we’ve still got plenty of things to tickle you with!” The chesnut-haired one flinched.

“We’re planning a little party, you know,” Marker Jr. piped up with a grunt as they rounded the corner. “Going to invite some more people — it’s all pay-to-RSVP, of course, our bill isn’t cheap! But that’s why we’re going to get things going — get some more people to get you laughing your lousy little head off!”

The pair chuckled. Once back in the back room, they finished tying him down — the younger man even a bit tighter than before, making Speed flinch again. He felt the capped one pat his leg a couple times before he left the room behind Meglaton, letting the door slam shut.

With somewhat of a stretch and a yawn, the boy lay his head to one side, reflexively closing one eye as he struggled to listen to more conversation a few feet beyond the door.

“…all tucked in, haha!”  
“Good work, when the phone rings…”  
“…get the door, I got it…”  
“…but how many…”  
“…should have enough for some upgrades…”  
“…use the machine again?”  
“For now, I have another idea…”  
“…laugh himself to sleep that night!”

Looking down, Speed idly wiggled his toes. Despite everything, he did feel cleaner. The mattress certainly wasn’t, but it was still comfortable enough. With another, wider yawn, he let his lids droop closed and tried to doze off before he knew he’d be jolted awake. Though he couldn’t be sure how — and tried not to anticipate it too much.


	4. Peddled to the Mettle

“Speed, is that really you? Oh my, what a surprise to see you here like this…”

With a light groan, the chestnut-haired one slowly opened his eyes, everything in the room coming back into focus. He twitched when he recognized the young woman standing over him. “Mn…Princess Petal?” He twitched. “What are you doing here?”

The Princess chuckled quietly as she gave her hair and veil a sweep back over her shoulder. “We were invited. I remember when our paths crossed in Hong Kong all those years ago and how…kind and thoughtful you were…”

“And handsome, not to mention!” another female voice piped up.

“Princess Silvana, you too?” the boy uttered, blinking. “But Paris is such a long way from Kapetapek!”

“It was worth the travel — to see you again,” the brunette in the tall red tribal headdress and half-sari explained.

“Yes, your humiliation is a worldwide sensation!” the cane-wielding showman interjected. “Of course the news has already reached nearly every corner of the world, and there are lots of very wealthy patrons who’ll pay us lots of money to see you suffer!”

“Sorry I’m late!” Yet another, shorter-haired brunette in a simple short white dress entered swiftly before stopping to stand by the other two. “Oh! I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see for myself but it seems like the famous Speed Racer has met his match…”

“Princess Gracious, I don’t believe it!” Speed echoed. For the first time in a while, his lips curled into a faint smile. Captivity was captivity, but suddenly the view was much better. The ladies chortled and grinned down at him.

“It’s settled then, I’ll take him!” Petal announced, turning.

“Huuh? What on Earth do you mean?” Fastbucks asked, catching his monocle as it slipped.

“You heard me right,” the Blossombow royal said, the other two seeming to put a hand on their hips on her behalf. “Speed is a treasure and I want to buy him from you!”

The top-hatted showman let out another cackling wheeze. “You want to take our little money-making revenge scheme right out from under our noses? No deal! You’re free to tickle him as long as you like, but he stays here!”

“If it’s money you’re worried about, then rest assured I’ll pay handsomely for him,” Petal said, glancing down at the boy with what seemed like a smirk, “My country is very rich and I’m willing to give you as much as three billion dollars. With interest!”

Fastbucks let his monocle slip down his jaw before setting it back over his eye. “That much, you say? …hmm…no, give us FIVE billion! With interest.”

The girls shared a glance; then faced the bearded one. Now Silvana spoke “We’ll all chip in from our countries’ revenue. Fifteen billion with three times the interest. Now will you let us have him or not?”

“Let me quickly consult with the others, I’ll be right back!” the showman bid, turning on his heel to stride out of the room. Speed and the ladies watched him leave, before Petal crouched by the chestnut-haired one’s left side, gently tugging the hem of his shirt up to his chest.

Running her fingers across his stomach, the veiled brunette said nothing though her blush seemed to overtake her rouge. With a grinning spite-of-herself flinch, she drew a large cattle egret feather and whisked it across his skin in all directions with a few twirls mostly around his navel.

“MMhahahaha!” the boy began wriggling in his bonds again, also flinching through a more helpless grin. “Heheheheheh! HahaHA!”

“That’s so cute, I love it!” Silvana said.

“He’s adorable!” Gracious chimed, “And with such a lovely laugh, too. It makes me feel so happy…”

After some loud debating — firm dissent audible from the Masked Racer, though it was shouted down and dismissed — Fastbucks strode back in.

“We’ve considered it and we’ve decided that fifteen billion from the banks of Blossombow, Kapetapek, and Avalonia is a fair trade! He’s all yours ladies…”

“Whahahat?” the chestnut-haired one managed to say, albeit none too urgently.

“That’s terrific! Thank you so much for your business, Mr. Fastbucks, you won’t regret it,” Petal said, smiling wide.

“And neither will you!” the showman said with another dry chuckle. Pausing, he said “Although, from the sound of it, his skin’s a little dull…let me show you how to properly resensitize him, all right?”

“Oh, you can do that? Yes, please show us!”

“Okay, here’s how it goes…” the monocled one began, walking over to retrieve a few items from a nearby dresser drawer. “First, you have to give him a little shot of this…” He carefully slid a needle into Speed’s left arm below the shoulder.

“Ow!” the boy exclaimed with another wince — before the bearded one shoved two different small spoons in his mouth, crosswise.

“You should always start with the shot since it’ll get him to open his mouth enough for you to feed him these, which have to be taken orally or they won’t work…”

“Mmhm, mmhm, I see,” the veiled princess acknowledged. “Please go on…”

“After that, you’re going to need just two more, which you have to administer like this…” He then took two separate small nasal spray bottles and slid the tips fully into the boy’s nostrils before giving them a timed squeeze.

Speed squinted, blinking, then flinched one last time with an emphatic sneeze and a few coughs.

“It always seems to do that, just be careful you’re not in the way,” Fastbucks jabbed. Petal chuckled, nodding. “NOW try that feather and see what you think!”

Regripping the egret plume, the veiled brunette resumed her feather-flitting over the boy’s stomach — nearly jumping as he jolted as if from an electric shock.

“HAHAHA! AAHAHAHA!”

Silvana and Gracious clapped a few times with gleeful wordless cheers. “That’s really amazing!” the former said. “Did you make these agents yourself or did you buy them?”

“Ha, well, we bought some of the ingredients we used to make them, but yes, these nerve-heightening agents are our own ingenious design! We can sell them to you as well, if you’d like…”

“Well, considering how they work how could I say no?” Petal mused. “How much do you want for them?”

“Well, we’re already getting fifteen billion and some for Speed so…okay, what do you think of three billion extra? We’ll make it a bargain, with a few free refills when you need them. After that, I think we might charge a full five billion…”

“Anything is worth having Speed at our whim,” the veiled one said, standing up for the moment to lightly bow in lieu of a handshake. “It’s a deal, sir!”

“Excellent! Did you need any help getting him on to your plane? We can help you with that as well.”  
“No, thank you — but I’ve got plenty of strong-armed bodyguards and other servants here to help me; they can certainly carry his weight.”

“Goodbye, Speed — or should I say ‘godspeed’? HA!” Fastbucks said. “But now you belong to these lovely ladies, so we’ll be taking our money and going. It was fun taking you down at last, though, I’ll never forget that!”

The chestnut-haired one seemed still preoccupied, gazing up at the three women. Then the veiled brunette crouched down again, twirling the feather in her fingertips “Although…we’ve all come such a long way, we might as well have some fun with him now, don’t you think?” and looked up at the others.  


“That’s a terrific idea!” the brunette in tall red tribal headdress said, nodding.

“Where do you want to start?” Gracious asked, looking their newly bought prize over.

“I think I’ll stay right here,” Petal said, resuming her midsection feather flitting. “With those special nerve agents, I can get a lot of laughs out of him just like this…”

“HAHA! PRIHINCESS PLEHEASE! IHIT’S TOO MUCH!” the boy yelped.

“Too much? But it’s not enough, we barely started!” Gracious insisted. “Here, give me that, I want to try…”

“Okay, you take this spot, I’ll find more,” Petal said gleefully with a nod, sliding further up, letting the girl in white to flit the feather across his belly while she took two more and swept them up his sides, under his shirt to his ribs.

“AAHAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

“And I’ll get these these nice open spots right here,” Silvana said, plucking another couple feathers from the top of her hat, flicking and twirling them under his arms. “Hmhmhm!”

Speed’s pitch jumped as he did, trying to curl his fingers and tugging away, rocking what even littler his bonds at their current tautness would allow. “HAHAHAHAHA! AHAHA! NOO NOHOHOHO!”  
___

“What’s going on? What’ve you done?!” Racer X demanded, stepping forward into the long-bearded monocled one’s path.

“Made us a profit, of course!” the top-hatted one explained. “Speed WAS a pretty golden goose — but we all have our price, and eighteen billion plus change isn’t too shabby, eh?”

“You can’t just sell Speed off to somebody else!”  
“Oh? And why do you care? Yes, we all enjoyed humiliating him — but let’s be real, a rival who’s gotten his just desserts is still crumbs in comparison to THREE COUNTRIES’ worth of riches!”  
“So you handed him off to those girls? Who were they, anyway?”  
“A pack of pretty princesses from Blossombow, Avalonia, and Kapetapek! They’re still toying with him right now, but when they’re done I’m sure they will take him home. I think Princess Petal has her eye on him the most…”

“Princess Petal of Blossombow, huh?” Suddenly the Masked Racer seemed to better compose himself, taking a step back. “Well, all right…I guess we did get a pretty good deal. I just hope they take good care of him.”

“HaHAaa, I’m sure he will be treated well at the palace. I hear even the deepest of the dungeons in Blossombow are fairly luxurious! But now I’m going to focus on getting my stocks and bonds in a row, so out of my way!” With a quick swing of his cane, Fastbucks continued down the hall and slipped into another room, letting the door slam behind him.

“Nine reporting again, Chief…”  
“What’s the status? How’s Speed?”  
“He’s all right — but apparently, he just got sold out to the Princess of Blossombow. She’s here with a couple others. Looks like I’m going to have to get a plane ticket and fast!”  
“We’ll arrange that for you, good work so far, Nine. Check in at o-six-hundred if you haven’t already called by then.”  
“Roger that. Nine out.”

_“Please, Racer X! Help me escape! … Or did he really convince you to join their gang? Do you really like torturing me that much?”_

“I’m so sorry, Speed, I REALLY am…” the Masked Racer mumbled to himself. “I was having too much fun with you as a brother and not keeping my guard up for you as a hostage. I let myself get cocky and I didn’t act in time. And I’m ashamed at myself for that… But this time, I WILL get you back! You’ll see… I’ll figure something out. I’ve GOT to.”  
___

“Oh, look at that, he fell asleep!”  
“Wake up, Speed…”  
“…so cute!”

Lids fluttering again, the chestnut-haired one awoke with a groan. He went to rub his eyes only to find he was cuffed again — though these had long chains bolted to the wall directly behind the head of the quite comfortable cot he lay in. “Where am I? What’s going on?”

“You’re home now, Speed.”

The boy raised a brow high, head turning, before he frowned. “But this isn’t my home — I don’t think it’s anywhere NEAR my home!”

“It’s your home now because you belong to ME now, Speed,” Petal said, and for the first time in years, her voice sent chills up his spine. “But don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you…”  


“As your prisoner? Or am I some kind of pet to you now, huh?” Speed found himself blurting.

“I guess it wouldn’t be a stretch to call you a slave—”  
“A SLAVE? You brought me here as a —!”  
“A tickle slave, to be precise.”

The chestnut-haired one felt a cold pulse as his stomach dropped. “TICKLE SLAVE?” he repeated, eyes hazily wide, his mind going numb. Yes, these girls were pretty, yes, that was pretty much what Fastbucks and his crew had been doing mostly with technology he hadn’t even dreamed existed — but still, somehow, here, right now, seemed different. More dire. More alarming. Humiliation was one thing. Outright slavery was another.

“That’s what I said — it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”  
“It’s – It’s – It’s AGAINST THE LAW, is what it is!”  
“Not in MY country.”  
“But I’m not from your country! I’m a citizen of my own, with certain civil rights!”  
“Well, you’re a part of my country now, fair and square. And what I say goes — and right now, I say you need to stop whining and start laughing that adorable laugh again!”

“MmHM!” both her Kapetapekan and Avalonian ‘besties’ concurred in unison.

“WHAT? But this is —!”  
“ENOUGH!”

Suddenly, two burly palace guards barged into the cell, letting the door swing noisily and bounce back off the wall halfway. Grabbing the boy’s ankles, they locked them in a thick pair of stocks that angled his feet slightly upward, pulling his legs taut so he couldn’t curl his toes. Then with a ka-chunk, the chains started clinking, actually receding into the wall to pull his arms taut as well.

“Gnnh! …WAIT, Your Highness, PLEASE!” Speed’s brows were sharply convex. “I —!”

“Guards!”

“Yes, Your Highness,” both acknowledged with a brief bow, facing her on either side of the foot of the bed toward the bars.

“Now TICKLE him and don’t ever stop! Get his feet, get his belly, get his sides, ribs, armpits, EVERYwhere! I want to hear him laughing loudly for a very long time! We all do…now do as I command!

“Yes, Your Highness!” the pair replied again. One set to mercilessly scrubbing his feet with a large softer-bristled brush, the other digging his fingers into his belly, slowly slipping them to his sides for relentless squeezes.

Unfortunately, while a considerable amount of time had passed in flight, his system hadn’t eliminated most of the agents his previous captors had administered. Laying his head back against the surprisingly pleasant cool stone, he squeezed his eyes shut, cachinnating.

“HAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHO! NOHO! PLEHEASE DOHON’T! STAHAHAP! YOU CAHAN’T! I – AHAHEHEHEE! HAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Such a beautiful sound…” Petal mused dreamily, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Mmhm,” Silvana agreed. “Like a loud birdsong, I could listen to it for hours.”

“More like a fine instrument, I think,” Gracious added. “But either way, I could listen to it all day!”

“Then we shall!” the veiled princess announced cheerily. “And with these additional gifts from Mr. Fastbucks, I’m sure we’ll be able to.”

“And tomorrow?” the brunette in the tall red tribal headdress asked.

“And the day after that?” the princess in the white dress added.

“Every day, without fail. Speed will be our little laughing nightingale…” Petal said, smiling wide.

“Oh, that’s a great poem — you should publish it in a book!” Gracious said.

“Thank you, I think I will,” the veiled princess said. “I’m going to get some paper and ink and write a thousand and one poems about Speed’s sweet laughter!”

“Oh, but what will you call it, then?” Silvana asked.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll have plenty of time to think of the perfect title. We have all week, after all…all week, all month, all the time in the world!”

Speed couldn’t hear the girls chatter over his own guffawing, pulse pounding. He wriggled a little more frantically when the one man’s fingers skated up, digging into his ribs for several minutes before they wormed under his arms, making him grit his teeth and tug harder on his arms, though the grip of the iron and stone kept him pretty much pinned.


	5. Knocked For Six

Meanwhile, another three ladies — Universal Circus starlette Twinkle Banks, small town shy girl/amateur racer Jeannine Trotter, and debutante/girls’ day out trip bill-footer Lovelace Goldminter — casually browsed a Parisian bookstore. Doing a double-take, Banks turned, whisking a brand new non-fiction book titled _POEMS OF PASSIONATE PANACEA_ off its shelf and leafing through it slowly.

“Oh, did you find something, Twink?” Goldminter asked, walking up beside her, Trotter quietly following. The starlette nodded, looking up.

“It’s a poetry book — oh! And apparently it was very recently published by Blossombow’s own crown princess! Look!” she exclaimed, pointing to a stanza toward the top of page three.

_Laugh for me  
Plead with my name  
This dance that we do is a beautiful game  
Your sweet voice is like a firecracker set aflame  
Like that boom of brightly colored light in the sky  
I’m mesmerized_

After some ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’, Jeannine felt brave enough to speak albeit softly in public again. “That’s such a pretty picture! I had no idea she could write so well…”

“Well, I suppose she has a lot of time on her hands and when she’s not traveling she has lots of opportunities to think of these things,” Twinkle said.

“..is that…?” Lovelace said, blinking rapidly as she glimpsed a photo on the inside cover.

“Speed Racer?!” the three of them chimed in near-perfect unison.

“Oh, my…it looks like…he’s her consort now?” Banks ventured.

“No — look at this: it says she acquired him on a trip to this very city recently. She and a couple of her friends all pitched in to buy him from a group called the Vengeful Ten.” Goldminter chuckled. “He’s her new toy boy!”

“Oh, well that’s…unexpected,” Trotter said.

“It is — but now I’m thinking we should take our trip to the Middle East. See if Petal wants to share, are you in?”

“I’m game!” Twinkle said even sooner than her friend’s sentence had ended. “I’m just dying to see Speed again — and I’d definitely want to hear his handsome voice, too.”

“I don’t know, part of me feels bad for Speed,” Jeannine professed. “He doesn’t seem like the type to do those sorts of things and I wonder if he’s really comfortable like that.”

“Don’t be silly! If he didn’t agree to it, don’t you think he’d have gotten away by now? He’s very resourceful!” Lovelace insisted.

“If you say so, then…I suppose it would be nice.”  
“Perfect! I’ll call our pilot RIGHT now!”  
___

“Good morning, Slave Racer,” the crown princess bid quietly through a devious grin as she stood beside the cell bars, peering in.

With a small groan, the chestnut-haired one pushed himself to a sit, his chains hanging loosely enough to give him fairly free arm movement. Looking down, he saw that he’d been undressed and fitted with a clean white loin garment looking closest to a Rokusyaku fundoshi with a bit of a local flare. “Ohh…so that’s why I thought it got chillier last night!”

“Well, don’t worry — you’ll get your morning bath very soon and after you take your medicine, we’ll have a long day of warming you up and keeping you warm!”  
“Princess, I —”  
“Ah-ah, that is not how you address me, you know that.”  
“Right, er, sorry…Miss…Petal.”  
“Now what was it you were going to say?”

Sighing, Speed caught her eyes and quickly said “You can let me out of these chains — I promise I won’t go anywhere. You can trust me.”

“Oh, Slave…not just yet I can’t. You’ve only been with me for one day, and barely that. I want to believe you but I need to make sure you don’t get any silly ideas about trying to run off…”

The chestnut-haired one’s brows convexed, but he said nothing, only sighing again and letting his head hang.

“Princess, your guests have just arrived upstairs, they’re waiting for you,” a servant announced, appearing around the corner.

“That’s wonderful!” the princess bid, smiling in earnest. “Tell them all to meet me down here. I know what they’re here to see so just send them down.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Moments later, Jeannine, Lovelace, and Twinkle all came bounding down, already drawing awed breaths and crowding around the cell door cooing as if they’d just strolled into a pet store.

“Twinkle, is that you?” the boy asked, blinking. “And ohh, Lovelace! Jeannine! You’re all here?”

The four ladies only chuckled. Turning to face the Blossombow royal, Lovelace asked “So can we play with him now?”

“Certainly — but he hasn’t had his bath or his medicine yet, so you’ll all have to wait,” she said plainly. “But that shouldn’t take too long. Guards! Take Slave to get cleaned up and administer all his medication then bring him to the third floor basement. As fast as you can!”

“Yes, Princess, right away!” one of them acknowledged before unlocking the door, walking to the back wall and prying off the manacles before hoisting him by the arms out and down the opposite hallway.

Speed stumbled a little as they walked him, but finally kept pace. He glanced back over his shoulder at the three newcomers with a doe-eyed frown before facing forward.  
___

Jaws and abs still aching, the chesnut-haired one let the two men take his weight as they began heading down the winding stone steps. The cool air alone made his skin prickle, making him shudder and almost trip again.

“Theeere he is!” Petal cooed with a grin. With a few bats of her hand, she continued “Tie him down right here and then you may go — but be ready to return in at least two hours if I don’t summon you sooner. Understand?”

Speed grunted as they pressed his wrists to the top of the wide round wooden frame that he realized was a Breaking Wheel missing its spokes. They stretched his limbs at their tautest angle, pulling tightly down on the ropes; fully immobilizing but none too painful to counter the real torture to come.

When the two finished binding his ankles, they rose and bowed, one bidding “Of course, Your Highness,” before bowing out.

As the three guests drew closer around him again, hands hovering, fingers clawing and twitching, the chesnut-haired one flinched, already uttering a throaty giggle as his skin flared with a light prickling again. This only encouraged them, however; they shared a laugh that segued into a chorus of “D’awww!” before snickering more mischievously and picking a side, foot, and armpit.

“HAHAHA!” Speed blurted out with a jump, or what would’ve been if his restraints weren’t quite as snug. He managed to find an inch or so to wriggle, fingers and toes curling and splaying, only otherwise able to let his head hang back as he laughed. “HAHAhahahaHA! STAHAP PLEASE! That’s TOOHOO MUCH!”

Unfortunately, as his mistress had insisted on starting a daily routine of ‘medication’, the very last batch of doses he’d just been given overlapped the one from yesterday — making even a few hands’ worth of skating, tracing fingernails feel like twenty.

“He always says that,” the crown princess mused with a brief eye-rolling simper. Looking down, she bid, finger wagging and all “I’LL tell you when you’ve had too much, Slave! You know that…” Reaching to the table close by, she plucked up a fluff-bristled tapered makeup brush and fluffed it over and in his ear, down his cheek and jaw, to his neck and shoulder, whisking it over and down across his shoulder blades.

“HEHEHEHEH! HeheHEHEheh! HahaHA! NOHO no! PleHEase not MY BACK! Not yet! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!”

In moments, Lovelace, Jeannine, and Twinkle had jogged around to the table and back like cooking show competitors racing for ingredients. Banks had found a large tail plume she liked enough to keep as a hat accessory, flitting and zagging it across his belly; Goldminter plied a close-tined wooden backscratcher of which both ends seemed equally useful in raking and poking up and down his ribs.

Trotter seemed to linger, eyeing the things, before finally picking up a small brush in shape of a telephone without a cord, five rows of rounded bristles protruding from it. Turning it over, she wondered aloud “What’s this for?”

Glancing over her shoulder, the princess smiled. “That? Well, for his toes of course!”

“Ohhh, I see!” Finally indulging in a giddy flinching grin, she walked around and adjusted her aim to slide each brush in between the toes of his right foot before finding a gentle sawing rhythm. The chestnut-haired one’s voice leapt another pitch.

“AHAHAHA! HAHA! NAHAT THEHERE EITHER! PLEASE! HAHAHAHAHA!”

Twinkle drew back as Goldminter stretched the scratcher across to dig into the right side of his ribcage. “Careful, Love, this isn’t a race!” she said instinctively.

Lovelace paused with an upward glance before saying “Hmhm…maybe we ought to make it one, then! How about it?” with a hand on her hip, scratcher hoisted like a torch.

“That sounds fair,” Jeannine said, smiling more broadly now. “But he’s already laughing and begging — how’ll we know who wins?”

“Simple, the first one to draw tears will be the winner,” the Blossombow royal declared. The other three nodded solidly.

Suddenly, another female voice mushroomed behind them. “What? You’re having a day of fun without us? I know he’s yours, Petal, but we all split the bill!”

“Oh, Silvana! I thought you’d be busy today. I certainly would have invited you!”

Palms upturned with a simper, she said “Well, it turns out all those things I had to do took way less time than I thought. So I decided to come back because I couldn’t spend too much time away from Speed now.”

“Do you think Gracious is coming, too?”  
“I wouldn’t doubt it! She probably feels the same way I do but who knows what kinds of things she’s up to right now.”  
“Well, if she comes we’ll certainly let her join our little game. There’s enough of him and his laughter to go around.”

“This is perfect!” Goldminter declared, twirling the scratcher now. “Looks like our little Crazy Eight track tickle race just turned into an International Grand Prix!”

“Huh?” the Kapetapekan princess uttered, brow rising.

“Oh, we’re just having a little competition to see who can drive him to cry from laughing first,” the crown princess explained.

“I may be late but I want in!” Silvana said. Spying the table of tools before she could ask, she darted over to fetch one, returning with a comb-toothed modern hairbrush, walking around to the boy’s left foot and slipping it against his sole.

“AAHAHA! HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!” the chestnut-haired one howled, leaning his head back as far as he could; wishing his body would slip out of his bonds and follow. After a minute or so, he lifted it with a limited flail, pinned his chin to his chest before leaning it back again. “HAHAHAA!”


	6. Ticket to Paradis

Days later, Princess Petal led her bodyguards dragging a bedraggled Speed out into a corner of the courtyard. The men pushed the boy to a sit before yanking his wrists up to snap wall-mounted manacles around them. They set another ornate stockade out in front of him, laying his ankles in the grooves before snapping the top shut and locking it.

“I know you haven’t been out of the dungeon in a while now so a little sunshine will be so good for you!” the princess chimed cheerily.

“It is a little warmer…” he mumbled, gaze wandering, brain still foggy from the night before — in which he’d barely been allowed enough sleep to keep his eyes open. He jolted at the sudden feel of a wet brush at his back, turning his head to partially see one of the men wielding milk and honey-soaked bristles. He half-flinched as the brush swiped around his neck. The other made quick work of it as well, blotching it under his arm, down his ribs and over his stomach. “…Hmhmhmhm! Hmhm! Hmhmhm!” He then bore a helpless grin when they swept down his legs to coat his feet quite thoroughly.

“There, that ought to be enough,” Petal said. “You can fetch them now.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” they overlapped, walking away only to return goading a litter of Asmari and Hejazi kids over toward the chestnut-haired one.

Hearing the familiar noise, Speed fidgeted. “No! Miss Petal, I’m not trying to defy you but PLEASE! PLEASE not that!”

“Well, why on earth not, Slave?” the Blossombow royal asked, head tilted, hand on her hip. “You have laughing to do for me; these poor animals need to eat — it’s a perfect arrangement!”

The goats lickle-attacked before he could get another word out. “NoHOHO! PriHIncess plEHEHEase! PleHEase stop! PLEASE STAHAHAHAAP!” 

There was something extra unnerving about tickle-torture by animal or machine. Though most human ticklers would likely ignore his pleas anyway, with no personality or mind to even try and reach out to, it felt especially hopeless.

Under a parasol to shade her from the midday sun, Petal slowly dozed off. The chestnut-haired one felt his head and vision swim in the extra heat. His chest and stomach ached, mouth so dry he was even grateful for a stray bead of his own sweat. Head pounding, he began to feel exhaustedly numb.

He didn’t catch the commotion of someone approaching the guards behind him and quickly knocking them both out. Or even calling his name rather loudly— until his sudden rescuer leaned in front of him.

Even in a half-conscious laughed-silly stupor, the boy recognized the face, wearily uttering “Racer X…you did come back for me…I – I knew you would…”

“Yes, and NOW is the time to get you out of here for good! C’mon, Speed…” the masked man bid, picking the locks on the stocks and manacles. Swiftly but gently helping Speed to his feet, he took his hand and both gave the slumbering princess one last curious look before darting off to the nearest gate off the property.  
___

The boy looked up with a smile as the pair strolled down a terminal in the closest airport. “Thanks for getting me my clothes back. Feels good to be dressed again — even if…” He trailed off, glancing down at his still-bare feet.

“Sorry I couldn’t find your socks or shoes,” the Masked Racer admitted, “But once we get you on that plane and home, it won’t matter.”

“Mm,” Speed agreed with a light flinch as he faced forward. “I’d like to put all of this behind me…I miss my family, I miss racing…”

Giving him a pat on the back, Racer X said “I don’t blame you. And I hope you can settle in quick and forget all of this as soon as you’re able.”

“YOU! Stop right there!”  
“You’re stealing and interfering with royal property! Stop at once!”

Both double-taked, seeing airport security along with unmistakable palace guards rushing toward them. The man pivoted, grabbing the chestnut-haired one’s wrist and sped to a sprint farther down the concourse.

“What do we do?” the chestnut-haired one asked, brows convex over wide eyes. “You said our plane wasn’t leaving for a few more minutes, right?”

“Right — so we’ll just have to take a detour and outrun them until we can hop on our flight! Terminal C, Gate D5, in five minutes!”  
“Terminal C, Gate D5, Terminal C, Gate D5. Got it!”

Unfortunately, they then hit a heavier crowd of travelers, who were surprised by the chase in progress but not nearly interested enough to duck out of the way like highway traffic at the sound of an ambulance siren.

“Racer X! Racer X, wait!” Speed called out as he felt the man’s hand slipping from his.

“Speed! Hang on!” the Masked Racer shouted back, though missed grabbing onto his secretly-younger-brother’s fingers again.

Like something out of a future decade of comedy movies, the security officers now freely began firing their guns, sending the already dense eddy of a mob into a stampede-style panic, further pushing the man and boy in opposite directions.

Floundering in the wave of people not unlike tumbling under a tall beach wave, Speed wound up on the floor, dazed, achy and with a few points like his left elbow still dully stinging from his wall and floor slam.

“Ohhh….ohh…” the boy clutched his temple as he struggled to stand, lids heavy over hazy eyes. “I’ve got to get to the gate…which — what was it again? ...Terminal…D? Terminal D, Gate…C5? Terminal B, Gate E5? B5?” He flinched harder as his head pounded. “Terminal E…C5…that’s got to be it! …but I can’t remember! And it was only a minute ago, nngh…I’m so tired from all the terrible tickle-torture I can’t think straight!”

He’d only just approached the waiting area by the C5 gate when he felt a freshly stinging routine slam to the base of his skull, offering only a woozy whimper before collapsing like clockwork.  
___

The next thing he knew, he could hear the distinct sound of a plane in flight. Opening his eyes, he spied a cabin ceiling with rows of lights, buttons, and air nozzles. He smiled for a minute, then tried to sit up — finding himself literally tied lengthwise across a row of seats by the window “Huuh?! Ohhh! What now?” and winced, reflexively struggling.

“Oh, so you’re awake now!” bid a man’s voice, the boy pausing to look up with a twitch. His brown hair was long in the bangs, fitting with his lengthy eyebrows and moustache as well.

“Who are y —…” Speed began, trailing off as his shoddy memory finally choked up a chunk of relevance. “G-General Smasher, wasn’t it? You worked with Dr. Loon in the Congo years ago trying to make an army of giants!”

Chuckling, the moustached one replied “Bangdabongo, not the Congo — but in all fairness, it’s an honest mistake. And yes! I did work with the good if a little bit crazy doctor. And yes, I was interested in making an army of giants and I still am! And you’re going to be my first guinea pig, whether you like it or not!”

The boy blinked “Guinea pig? Giants?” half-wittingly shaking his head. “No, no, I won’t! Never!”

“Hmm…” Smasher said, closing his eyes for a moment. “You know, I haven’t spoken to Loon recently, but he did call me a few weeks ago.”

“He did?”  
“Yes, and he said you were making quite a guinea pig for them — but luckily, that was also making them lots of money.”

Wincing at the memory, the chestnut-haired one turned his head, shuddering even for as tightly as he was tied. “They sold me out…it was nice to see Princess Petal and the others but then they were too much as well. …I just want to go home! I want to go HOME! I’m sick of — ghh!”  


The general snickered at his teeth-gritting tensing jump, continuing to idly tweak the boy's toes. “Hmhmhm! You talk too much and too smart — it’s nice to know that you have a few buttons I can press to shut you up just like that!”

Speed’s brows angled “You’ll never shut me up or stop me! Not forever! No one can, I won’t — aaHAHA!” though quickly swept back into convexes over squeezed-shut eyes and bared teeth. “STOP that! DoHOn’t tickle me!”

“As long as you keep talking with that smart mouth of yours, I’ll keep tickling! What do you think of that, huh?”

“Ahaha, nooo!” Pausing to lean his head back and strain to glimpse out the port window, he raised it asking. “…nngh, and where are we anyway? Where are you taking me?”

“We’re on a plane, you silly boy! But this plane is flying back to my old country, which is where you’re going — and where you’re going to become a great asset for me in my plans to conquer the world.”

“I told you I woHOHOhon’t!” the chestnut-haired one echoed, struggling to keep his demeanor while the man raked fingers down his sole.

“And I told YOU that I won’t until you will! …unless you’re just playing along and really like getting tickled out of your wits, huh?”  
“HahaHAHAha! Myhy fahamily, Trihixie, sure! But naHAt like thiHIHIs!”  
“Well, then if you don’t want it, you’re going to have to agree to my terms and start being a good boy and staying quiet!”  
“I don’t! I refuse! HAHAHAaaaaHA!”  
“Then you’re going to get tickled! …honestly, even for as annoying as you are, I thought you were at least a little bit smart. But I guess I was wrong to assume things, wasn’t I? Either way, you’re going to make a good little guinea pig when we get back to the lab.”

In the few seconds he withdrew, the chestnut-haired one locked eyes with his, sweat beading. “Where are we now? Just how long is it going to take to get back to where you’re taking me?”

“From where we are, it’s still at least eight hours and fifteen minutes,” Smasher answered. “That’s plenty of time to figure out that you don’t have a choice but to agree with me and become my first titan soldier!”

Somehow, that word made a myriad of blurry sights and muffled and faraway sounds sweep across his mind. “…ti…tan…” His eyes were quite glassily glossed over in thought.

“Yes! I think that’s a good name for it, don’t you? ...Speed? …Speed! Snap out of it, you silly boy!” Now the moustached man lunged, tickling both of his feet fervently.

“HAHAHAHA! AHAHA!” the boy jumped, face twisting into another grinning cringe as his chest and stomach pounded. “STAHAP TICKLIHING MEHE!”

“Hmm, what was that you told me? ‘I don’t, I refuse!’ If you want it to stop, you know what you have to tell me! So no more breaks, no more asking questions! Either lay there and laugh or agree to my plan!”  
“AaaHAHAAhahahaHAHA!”  
“Hmm…I see, maybe this isn’t tickling you nearly enough…I’ll have to find a way to fix that. Hm, I think I have a few things with me that might do the trick!”  
“Noohohoooo! NAHAHA! NO! GaHAHAha!”  
___

The next thing the chestnut-haired one knew, he was similarly pinned — but upright against the far wall of a bare prison cell, with what looked like a large syringe of red hot coils and a bee-stinger-style needle aimed right at the center of his chest.

Blinking, the boy shifted his gaze to the moustached one at the console on the left wall. “So let’s say your crazy mismo beam works — what then? If I’m bigger than this room, this whole building, you won’t be able to control me or tickle me into submission, so what will you do? You’re just giving me a chance to escape! Unless that’s what you want…I know it’s what I want.”

“Goodness, you still have all that mouth on you even after laughing yourself hoarse and fainting on the plane ride? Well, I suppose that’s actually good because you’ll need that extra energy when your body is much bigger!”

Speed’s eyes narrowed as he heard the knobs turning. After one last ratcheting click, the coils and needle came alive with a hot red bolt that shot in a beam straight toward him. He winced, but felt as if lightning had struck his stomach, fire broiling in his belly and chest, shooting out in stabbing waves to his extremities, up his neck and making his head throb worse than it had in the past few days.

Like a pinprick, the cuffs around his wrists and ankles snapped as his arms and legs stretched to a much more massive size. However, the transformation seemed to taper off, his head knocking the ceiling, sending him into a cacophonous forward topple, knocking his giant knees and slamming his face into the bars..

“Ow…” he mumbled, eyes shut again, though heard his voice boom quite louder and deeper. Lids fluttering, he opened them, vision clearing to see his captor now indeed looking like a small doll standing just beyond the bars. “It worked, you really did it…!”

“HaHAA! I told you it would be a success! …and it looks like you’re not crashing through anywhere like that like you thought, huh? So you’re not leaving! Now sit there tight and wait for my men to finish ‘accommodating’ you.”

“Nnngh…” With a flinch, the boy tried spreading his arms and legs further, and trying to push the room and building out away from him — but the structures held strongly, and after a while, he let the wall behind him take his weight, letting his arms drop with a sigh and sliding his cramped legs out.

“Thaaat’s right, thaaat’s it, just calm down and relax, huh?” the man continued to coax.

Soon, more soldiers appeared from a door on the left wall, filing in before hoisting up on ladders and pulleys to snap more cuffs around his wrists, ankles, and even neck.

The boy glared at them, struggling in a burst once again, but finding the restraints with little rattling pull. Baring gritted teeth; he let out a short roar of his own, eyes locking with the tiny brown-haired man’s as the soldiers filed back out in a hurry and slammed the door.

“You’re about as noisy as a gorilla — but lucky for us you’re not nearly as smart as one!” Smasher taunted. “And with those big human teeth you won’t have the strength to bite those chains before you chip one! So your best bet is to just stay there and wait for your orders!”

“You can’t keep me like this!” the chestnut-haired one bellowed, chains clinking as he yanked them tight in a lunge. “Not forever! I’ll figure a way out, and then you’ll really be sorry! I’ll crush your whole operation, what d’you think about that? General Smashed, that’s what you’ll be! I’ll make sure of it!”

“Hmmmhmhmhm, oh, is that what you think?” the man mused, lids drooped in a sly grin. “…and as for your mistaken impression that you can’t be tickled because you’re so big…” He trailed off, though glanced at the small battalion of men rushing in re-armed with long-handled sweeper brushes and the like. In the same volley up stepladders and pulley wheels, they plied them with an awe-striking expertise from the now giant Speed’s collar to his sleeves, shirt hem, and immobilized feet with protruding toes.

“HAHAHA! WaiHAIt WAIT NO DOHON’T! STOP STAHAHAP! HaHAow ahaHAre youhouhou — waHAHA!” He twitched and fidgeted in his chains, but found even less wiggle room than before. The now much tinier tickles seemed even more maddening than those at a regular ratio, driving his voice to a much higher pitch already. “STAAHAP PLEASE! I’ll do whaHAt you waHAHAHAnt! I’LL DO ANYTHING! JUHUST STAPPIHIHIHIT!”

“You promise?”  
“AHAHA! AHAHEE PROHOMIHISE!”

With a rather casual wave of his hand, the General waved his men down. “All right, at ease, as you were, he’s given his word. Now we’ll have to see if he keeps it — and if he doesn’t, he’s going to be in for an even more tickly surprise that he won’t be able to beg his way out of!”

The titan boy shivered, though nodded meekly when his eyes met Smasher’s again. “So….what do you want me to do? Sir?”

“We’re going to launch a surprise attack on our country’s old enemy occupying our land — and once we have them engaged, we’re going to trot you out as our trump card! And you’ll get to work smashing all of our opposition! Tanks and guns and houses and forts, ALL of them! And then once they’re all crushed, we’ll move in and take back what is ours! Do you understand?”  
“All right, I’ll do it. What’s the signal?”  
“Come rushing in ready to crush them when I call your name! Is that clear?”  
“Yessir. Very clear, sir.”  
“Good! No, better than good — that’s great! Finally, we will have our just revenge! This is perfect! No, this is BETTER than perfect! Hahaha!”  
___

With the sliding front wall down, it was especially lonely and quiet. The chestnut-haired one let out a deep sigh, lids drooped as his gaze blurred on the floor between his feet. 

“Even if she was more of a slavedriver than I ever imagined, at least Ms. Petal never left me alone for so long…and Racer X, he – I – just…” His eyes panged with tears as he shut them in a quick flinch. “I just want to go home…” he reiterated a lump swelling in his throat. “Everything’s been so crazy for so long, I just want to go home.”  
___

The very next day, the titan boy was unshackled and goaded to the end of the grassroot rebellion convoy. Glancing and often squinting down, he quickly learned to be careful of where he stepped — in fact, a single stride for him was at least several miles for the tanks. So he often had to take a step, stop, wait, and then take another. He wasn’t unfamiliar with hoofing rough terrain sock and shoeless, though half-flinched at some of the unavoidable pointier pinchier landscape, including boulders, sharp-leaved hedges and even fences.

Mind starting to wander in the monotony, he just heard the general’s command of “STOP!” and gave his head a clearing shake, sweeping his gaze out to the front of the line, seeing the occupying forces advance with their own vehicles and weapons, making a human barricade.

The long-moustached one and his lighter-haired, essentially palette-swapped counterpart met halfway between their roused rabbles. “So, we meet again, Smasher. Are you still so delusional that you think you can beat us and drive us out? You’re no stronger than you were over half-a-century ago!”

With an outright laugh, the brown-haired general scoffed “We come bearing much better weapons, much better armor, much better strategies AND now an actual titan warrior on our side — and you still think we’re no match?! You always were an idiot, Thrasher, but this is dumb even for you!”

Their chatter barely reaching his ears, Speed sighed; then raised a hand to mask a yawn, lowering it to idly scratch his side. He hadn’t heard his name, so didn’t budge otherwise. He glanced at their opposition one more time, all staring up at him in a mix of awed terror and undeterred machoist rage. The latter had already raised and aimed their rifles.

“ATTACK!” General Thrasher boomed with a swing of his arm, not unlike a car race flag waver. His men obeyed, hollering as they sprinted out from their line. Even without such an order, Smasher and his men countered; rushing at their opponents with equal fury.

Finally, the time came. “SPEED! Do it now! Start crushing them now! DO IT!”

With a jump, the chestnut-haired one nodded with an “Mm! Yessir!” and easily stepped over the insurgent tit-for-tat and kicked in the city’s entrance. Looking around, he spied an even bigger rock formation, hoisting it up, carrying it over his head for a few steps before bringing it down to smash a good portion of Thrasher’s men. Finding other big but not as massive stones, he tossed and flung them, making the remaining soldiers scatter.

“HAHA! That’s it! We’re winning! Don’t you see, you idiot?!” Smasher cried with a maniacal grin.

“You’re a coward and a cheater, Smasher, you fool!” Thrasher bellowed back. “Even with your fighting giant, you’ll still lose! My men and I aren’t so easily intimidated! Because we’re not wimps like you who pretend to be cocky but turn tail at the first sign of being outgunned!” Turning to his remaining troops, he shouted “Get that so-called titan! Stop him! Whatever you have to do!”

“Aye, sir!” most of them chimed in unison, spreading out before circling back, lunging at the boy from tall roof and treetops. Speed half-flinched, trying to pick them off, but like tiny bugs, they moved too fast, even on just two legs — though some had slung their guns over their shoulders, clawing around on all fours.

The tide’s turn began when one man darted up over the boy’s collar, latching onto his nape. The chestnut-haired one tensed with a grunt and a shiver, reflexively reaching up to swat at the back of his neck. Sliding out of the way and ducking past his left jaw, the same soldier grabbed at the side of his neck again, getting a similar pause and twitch reaction. 

Watching intently, it didn’t take even Thrasher long to realize what was happening. With a grin and wheezing chuckle, the occupying general vocalized “Looks like your Goliath situation is a bit of a ticklish one, isn’t it, Smasher? …Men, keep at it! Keep tickling him until he goes down!”

Looking livid, the long-moustached one snapped his hands into fists, barking “SPEED! Don’t lollygag around like that! Fight them, CRUSH THEM! If you lose to them we lose to them — and if that happens, I swear to you I’ll tickle you out of your wits yet!”

“I — AIIHEE! I’m tryiHIHIng!” the titan boy replied, half-flinching with a helpless grin, slapping and clawing more furiously at the comparatively mite-sized men clinging to him. A few returned to the back of his neck, and once enough of them had slid down the back of his shoulders, it was all he could take. “AHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO! LeHEHEave my back aloHOHOne! GeHEt off meHEE!”

In his herking and jerking and twisting, he eventually lost his footing, toppling over with a thunderous crash. He landed on his side, from which the lasso-wielding enemy forces on the ground snagged him and forced him belly down. Rope after rope after rope, stake after stake after stake, and Speed was pinned quite thoroughly. He struggled with a half-witting whine, launching into more giggles as more of then focused on digging and dragging their fingers down his spine. A handful more went for his toes, using tree branches and other brush to prod and flit.

Smasher looked red in the face, scowling, looking as if steam might honest to goodness spout from his ears. Trembling and muttering sharply, he watched as his small army sans titan trump card eventually went down likely as much as they had during their previous encounter. Finally, he cringed, rasping “RETREAT, RETREAT! AND LEAVE THAT TRAITOR TITAN! THOSE IDIOTS CAN DO WHAT THEY WANT AS WE’VE NO MORE USE FOR HIS USELESSNESS!”

“GeheHEneral, waiHAit! the chestnut-haired one near-literally cried, brows sharply convex. “Don’t leave me here! Please! I didn’t —!”

“That’s enough out of you!” Thrasher snapped, interrupting him, standing inches from his massive jaw. The boy looked at him. “Now, why don’t you tell us what that crazy Smasher and his minions have been up to?”

“B-But sir! I can’t! I don’t even know them!”  
“You were fighting for them, were you not?!”  
“YES, but they MADE me! They brought me here against my will and made me giant and coerced me into trying to fight their battles for them!”  
“A likely story!”  
“It’s the TRUTH! I’m TELLING you! I don’t KNOW ANYTHING!”  
“Well, I don’t believe you! But knowing what we know, maybe we can coax the true truth out of you, eh?”  
“What? NO! General Thrasher, listen —!”  
“I’m listening, but I only want to hear the answers I’m listening for!”  
“I DON’T HAVE THEM! I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING! PLEASE!”  
“We’ll see about that…hold tight. Let my men finish working on their…persuasion. Hmhm.”

Within a fairly short time, the opposing general’s goons had wheeled out several portable drilling rigs and tunnel borers. Their metal had once been sharp enough to cut through rock with ease, but after so much use, they’d become so worn down and dull they could barely cut grass — which was just enough to tickle a titan senseless.

Speed’s brow beaded with sweat at the sight of the machines around him, lined up along his back, close to his sides, feet and arms. He kept shaking his head. “No, no…no, sir…please…no…!”

Hands behind his back, Thrasher paced beside him. “All right, Speed — that is your name, isn’t it? So…tell us everything you know about those Bangdabongoan rebels, about that idiot Smasher, and all of his invasion plans.”

“The ONLY invasion plan I know about is the one TODAY! The one he recruited me for and the one that failed because of your counterattack! That’s it, that’s ALL I know!”  
“You’re LYING.”  
“I’m NOT!”  
“Well, I say that you ARE — but I’m sure we can, hm, drill through your reservations. All right, start up the ones in the back!”  
“NO, PLEHEASE!”

Feeling the rapid spin of the bumps and grooves along his soles and under his toes made the boy jump, lifting off of the ground for a brief moment before thudding back down, writhing what little his tent-peg bonds let him. His fingers and toes curled, eyes squeezed shut over an almost painfully wide grin. “HAHAhahahaha! NO! HahahaHAHAAHA! Nonono, tuHUrn it OHOHOFF!”

“Ignore him! In fact, keep it going and make it faster! Don’t let up at all until I tell you!” the general ordered, flinging an arm out, though not taking his eyes off the chestnut-haired titan.

“HAHAHAA! AHAHAhaha! PLEASE! NO! HahaHAHA!”

By the time Thrasher lowered his arm to signal the power-down, a solid eight minutes, Speed was already breathless. “Now, TALK…” the man insisted again.

“I…I can’t…I still don’t — I never…I don’t KNOW ANYTHING!” the boy protested. “You can’t tickle me into knowing something I don’t know! You can’t!”

“All right, if that’s how you want to play it…work the ones at his feet and his sides. Double time!”

“General, noHOHOHOHAHAHA!” the chestnut-haired one began, jolting and writhing with guffaws as the two additional bits whirled at his waist, dipping under to his stomach and onto his back in his helpless squirming, which only made it worse. “AHAHAIIIIHEHEHE! STAHAHAP! STAHAHAAAAP!”

“He’ll talk eventually. All men of all sizes usually do,” Thrasher mused to himself.

Another twenty minutes. The boy could barely catch his breath. “…please…pleasepleaseplease, sir…PLEASE…I can’t…I…I don’t…” 

Unmoved, the general said “Start on his ribs, and keep the others running.”

“Aye, sir!” acknowledged one of said drill operators with a salute before turning on his machine.

“NOOOO!” Speed howled. “WAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! AAAAAHAAAHAHA!”

Thirty-five minutes had passed, the men milling around and watching as Smasher’s former titan weapon burst out bellylaughing between raspy gasps for air.

“Hm…you must like this if you’re willing to hold out for this long. Is that what your game is, eh, Speed?” the general asked, pacing about again before stopping to look him in the watery eye.

“…General… … I… I…can’t… No, I don’t…please… … stop…STOP…STOPPIT PLEASE!” the boy eked out, cringing.

“You shouldn’t talk unless you plan to tell me what I want to hear, I told you that an hour ago. …You know what you’re going to get now, don’t you?”

He couldn’t help glimpsing the drills pointed into his sleeves, his underarms immediately pre-tingling. “Pleheheheeease, NO…!” he whimpered.

“Start there, right there,” Thrasher said, pointing rigidly to his nearer shirt cuff. “Give it an extra twenty minutes before you start the rest, then hold steady for one hour. On my mark!”

“AN HOUR?!” Speed echoed shrilly and scratchily, adding “And twenty minAAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! NOWAITSTOPAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

The afternoon sun hung low on the horizon as the eight spinning bits wound down, their dentist’s office pitch dragging discordantly as they slowed. Even before they had, everyone nearby and likely within fifty miles could hear the titan boy’s gravelly panting. Multiple trickles of tears stained his cheeks, with yet more dripping down in this latest interim. If he had any voice left, he couldn’t muster it. He simply stared pleadingly at the general, brows sharply convex, lips quivering; face sliding into the dirt as he cringed with a whine.

At this point, Thrasher’s lids lowered over a calmly menacing grin. “So you can’t talk anymore, huh? Well, as if you ever started! But even if we’re not going to get what we need out of you, it isn’t as if we tore these important machines away from obtaining much-needed resources for nothing! You three up top, crank up those drills and have away! All of you, I want every machine running — keep them top speed, ha, atop Speed! And double time plus my mark! NOW!”

“…AAAAH! HAHA…! …AIIEEHE…! …HAA!” the chestnut-haired one’s belly hadn’t stopped heaving, but his voice had begun to disappear. The sheer sensory overload wedged his jaws apart in a gaping cachinnating grin, eyes shut as tight as his lids would squish, fingers and toes clenched as tight as they could be, splaying in an occasional spasm. He only wriggled a few times per few minutes, exhaustion visible and audible.

Just before his swimmy vision faded to black, he heard a muffled, almost water-distorted-ish wisecrack from the general. “…well, at least you won’t be trying to crush anyone else’s defenses after that, eh? Just a big ticklish titan…”


	7. Brobdingnagian Brouhaha

“Ohhh…mm-mh…nnnh…” the boy groaned softly, lids fluttering once more. He quickly recognized the face that de-blurred in front of him. “Ohh, Miss Petal! You came back…”

“Yes, Speed,” she said calmly, quietly, as she smiled.

At this point, Speed realized that she towered over him, looking down to see himself laying in her cupped hands. “Ohh! Huh?! What – What happened? I was —”

“That lunatic General Smasher turned you into a giant, yes. And it wasn’t long before one of my country’s lawmen spotted you and let me know where you were. I came to fetch you, and return you to normal — but Smasher had smashed the machine, making it useless. We tried everything else until something finally worked — but it worked a little too well, and made you tiny, instead.”

“Oh, I see! Well…better than being too big, I suppose…” the boy mused. He closed his eyes with a humming sigh as the Blossombow royal rocked him gently with a sway of her hands.

“Speed…”  
“Mm?”  
“I seem to remember a certain someone promising me ‘I won’t go anywhere, you can trust me’. Do you remember who said that?”  
“Oh — I – I –…guess I did.”  
“Mmhm…and you broke that promise, didn’t you?”  
“Y – Yes, well…i-it was Racer X, he —”  
“Even if he showed up, you could have stayed but instead you let him take you away from me.”  
“I – I suppose I did…I – I’m so sorry, Ms. Petal. I —”

She set him down gently onto his feet on the edge of the table in front of her, leaning forward on her elbow, chin in hand, sly grin widening. “Hm…do you know what that means, my little Speed Thumb? Or should I call you ‘Thumb Racer’?”

“What it means, y – I mean…”  
“What you’re going to get?”

The miniaturized chestnut-haired one sweat anxiously, brows convex. “P- punished. …Punishment?”

“Mm,” she acknowledged, though with a nod that added ‘Go on…’

His shoulders rose as his sheepish grin deepened, pulse prickling. “Tickle punishment?”

“Mm.”  
“E - …Extra tickle punishment?”

Finally she chuckled, reaching out to pet his head with a finger, confirming “Quintuple extra tickle punishment, my little Thumb Racer.” Withdrawing, she snagged a teacup from a nearby shelf, setting it down and filling it with hot but not scalding water. “But first, again, you need your bath and your medicine. You’ve gotten so dirty trudging around in the wilderness like that!”

He frowned for a brief moment as he turned to glimpse the impromptu porcelain bathtub. With a flinch, he sighed and shed his clothes, hopping over the teacup’s edge like the Mach Five’s door and sliding in with a splash. He let out a quick “Oh!” at the heat, but quickly segued into an “Ahhhh…” and slid down, letting his sore shoulders sink under. “That feels great, actually…”

The princess chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy — but you still have to clean, you know!” Scooping up a few water drops with a dip of her finger, she splashed them onto his hair and sudsed a spot of soap into his crown.

“Mmm…thank you, Ms. Petal,” he said. Then let out a squeaky “Yaiihe!” when she slid her finger down his neck and back, rubbing in more suds before sliding it up and back over his shoulder to his chest and belly, making quick circle rubs. “Hmhmhm! HmhmHMHMhmhmhm!” He let her carefully grab his legs, squirming and squeaking when she soaped his feet.

“There! I’d say you’re all squeaked clean now,” Petal noted after he’d ducked under the water to rinse. Holding out a dollhouse towel on her pinky, which he grabbed, she turned to fetch Fastbucks’s infamous potions.

Speed had only just slipped his shirt back on when he felt a familiar prick in his upper-arm, twitching with an “Ow!” Looking down, he briefly awed at the spider silk-thin bevel that either she or likely more palace staff had mounted on the end of the usual syringe. 

He grunted as she scooped him up again, plying a tiny glass eyedropper as if trying to feed a newborn kitten. Gently wedging her thumb between his teeth, she pushed his top jaw open to squeeze a drop into his mouth. Setting the first dropper down, she picked up another, then one more. When she’d let him close his mouth, she briefly rubbed his throat. “Now swallow…that’s it, that’s it…good boy.”

Likewise with the needle, she’d acquired a narrower top for the nasal sprays, carefully sliding the hair-width nozzle into one nostril then the other with very short sprays adjusted for size. He sniffled, sneezed, then coughed; giving his head a shake, he cleared his throat.

“Good boy, good boy,” the Blossombow royal echoed, giving his head another tapping pat and pet. Then she turned her wrist, setting him on his back, sliding out one arm and leg at a time and very delicately planting double point tacks for cuffs. The chestnut-haired one turned his head, watching. When she’d finished, he tested his bonds. Even for as strong as he normally was, they didn’t budge.

Facing forward he jumped when he saw the can of spotter, model, and nail art brushes that she set down, plucking out one of the larger small ones. Her hand hovering, tapered bristles aiming for his midsection, she giggled. “Are you ready for your quintuple extra tickle punishment, my little Thumb Racer?”

“Mm,” Speed echoed in spite of himself, flinching again though he was already grinning in helpless anticipation, even shivering. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess!”

After she tugged up his shirt hem, there was still an excruciating pause before she finally touched tiny brush to tiny belly, cooing “Tickletickletickle!” as she moved the bristles up to down, side to side. Tickletickletickle! Tickletickletickle!

Jolting again, eyes wide, he reflexively made a failed attempt to curl up, then laying back, head thudding to table as shook with laughter. “HAHAHAHA! PRIHI! PRIHIHINCEHEHEHES! AAHAHA! MIHISS PETAHAHAL! AHAHAIIIHEHEHE!”

“Yes, my teeny-tiny Speed?” she asked, chuckling again, musing “Tickling teeny-tiny tickly Speed’s teeny-tiny terribly ticklish tummy-tum-tum!”

The chestnut haired one flushed at the babyish taunt about as much as he had at his debut humiliation. He gritted his teeth — but more laughter wrenched his jaws back apart in seconds.

Later, he had no idea how long though it felt like hours, she withdrew for a moment, giving the bristles an idle sweep up his left ribs and prodding under his arm. Lifting it to his sleeve she gave him a few more pokes before stopping, leaning on her elbow, turning the thin handle to and fro between index finger and thumb like a bored student with a pencil. “Hmm…where should I tickle you next? …Oh! I know, how about those terrifically tickly tiny toes?”

Speed made a grinning wince, whining through chuckles, though made no protest. Another voice did, however.

“So THAT’S where you’ve been hiding him! Petal, you keep hogging him! That isn’t fair!” 

It was Gracious, who walked over to sit on the empty plush cushion next to the princess. She grinned seeing the tiny chestnut-haired one’s face — especially when he double-taked with wide eyes. Gaze shifting to the can of brushes, the Avalonian royal said “Ooh! We’re using these? I guess he’s so small, it makes sense…” and plucked one for herself.

“Mm, mmhm — and I’ve started on his belly, I was just about to get to his feet,” Petal explained.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I showed up, because you’re going to need help to do that properly now, don’t you think?”

The Blossombow royal chuckled. “Why, I suppose you’re right! All right then, let’s get to it!” The other princess shared her snicker before both set bristles flicking over his soles; a strand or three darting between his toes.

“AAHAHAHAHA! HAHAA! HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Eyes bulging wide again, his stomach squeezed out tears that slipped down his jaws. Wearily, he made loud shrill gasps for air between streams of guffaws.

Pausing, the princesses watched him catch his breath, Before they could resume, the third Speed stockholder made herself known, whumphing down in a kneel beside the others. “Oh, look at how precious he is! So adorably tiny like this…” She reached a finger down to pet his cheek.

“He’s just had a bath and taken his medicine so he’s extra tickly right now like this, too.” Petal returned her gaze to the miniature chestnut-haired one. “And that’s good because of course he ran away so he’s missed lots of laughing and needs to make it up to me — especially because he decided to be naughty and run away!”

“He ran away? From YOU?” Silvana balked, also looking from Petal to Speed. “Ohh, he definitely needs some discipline for that!”

“I’m sorry, I’m SORRY!” the boy instinctively cried with another cringe. “I – I won’t do it again! This time I promise for real!”

“Well, you’ll have to earn that trust back, won’t you?” the Blossombow royal chided. “But for now…” Looking up at the Kapetapekan royal, she went on “He’s had his tiny tummy brushed and now we’re working on his toes. Can you take the rest of him for now, Silvy?”

“With pleasure!” she replied, grin glinting as she gazed down at the boy, not unlike their first encounter. “Big or small, you’re still such a thrill, Speed, you know that?”

“Uh…th-thank you, Princess…Silvana! I – I – AAIIIIEEEHEHEHE!” the miniature chestnut-haired one burst into an especially squeakish squeal when she took two brushes to take to his underarms again. She seemed to have an intimidating knack, sweeping, swirling, and twirling them in turn and tandem. “HEHEHEHE! AHAHAHEE! HAHAHAHAHA!” 

“Ohhh! Will you listen to that tiny little laugh? It’s even cuter than a puppy’s bark!” the Kapetapekan royal gushed.

“Or a kitten’s mewl!” Gracious chimed.

“Or just about ANYthing else!” Petal finished, the three of them sharing another giggle though they didn’t dally in their tickle-brushing. Silvana whisked her brush-tips farther down to tease at his belly, back up his sides and ribs before swirling back down into his armpits again. Once or twice, she flipped them, gently and ticklishly jab-jabbing the length of his tiny ribcage.

After a small relative silence, Petal turned to each of her fellow Speed-owners. “Since he went missing for two-and-a-half days, I think two-and-a-half days of rigorous tickling is the only fair thing, at the very least! Don’t you agree?”

“He disappeared for that long?! Why, I’d make it three days if it were all up to me,” the Avalonian royal insisted.

“Hmm…maybe…”

“NOHOHOHOHO! MISS PETAL! DOHON’T! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” 

“Are you talking back?” the Blossombow royal said, though visibly more amused than offended. “Oh dear my, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

“I can try calling Lovelace and the others,” Silvana said, smirking. “I think they were staying a hotel in Turkey last I checked, and that’s barely a taxi ride here!”

“Wonderful idea, Silvy! They can help fill in all the untickled spots for us.”

“Ohh, n — AAAHAHAHA! HAHAA!” the chestnut-haired one began, cutting himself off with a horse laugh as she prodded his hip with the handle, twisting it. Gracious noticed, and did the same to his right hip. “AHAHAHAHAAHAHA!”

Speed was reduced to screaming squeals when the non-royal trio added their brush sweeps and jabs to the mix.

Despite this, or rather because of it, the Blossombow princess suddenly broke out crooning with another ode. “A giggle for a tickle, as the tickles go ‘round…”

“Such a tiny little laugh is such a beautiful sound!” Silvy joined.

“Nose to toes, toes to nose, to belly, ribs, armpits, and hips…” Gracious added.

“My heart will always melt away at that wonderful smile of his!” Twinkle finish-libbed. Her acts were more dance than song, but she’d trained in that too.

“It’s a bit off, but it still sounds so lovely! Thank you, girls — I’m going to write this one down before I forget. I’ll give you all the credit!” Petal said, reaching for her writing pad. Another stanza for her sequel anthology.  
___

Tickle Punishment Day Two had the miniaturized boy belly down, burying his face and muffling his helpless guffaws in the low leg tabletop as the princess and Goldminter zig-zagged bristles and handle end respectively down the length of his back. 

“MMHMHMHMMPH!” The shaking from his laughter and additional writhing or attempt to had prompted Petal to pause and gently hammer the two-point tacks in further with the bottom of her drinking glass. “HMHMMMM!”

“Just why is your back so ticklish, my little Speed Thumb?” the Blossombow royal cooed, for all intents and purposes rhetorically. Though the boy still reflexively answered, struggling to lift his head in his exhausted daze.

“AHAIIE! DoHOn’t knoHOHOwww!”

“Mmm…these brushes make you the giggliest, but which end is ticklier to you? This one —” she gave his lower back another few sweeps before turning it around and prodding in a haphazard circle “— or this one?”

“Yie! TheHEy’re boHOth very tickliHIsh!” the chestnut-haired one eked out, jumping at first as he felt both brush ends dancing over his soles. After a few moments, Petal and Lovelace switched which foot they tickled, though didn’t flip their brushes.

“What should we do with him now?” Goldminter asked. Before Petal could reply, Twinkle came running in, eyes sparkling.

“I know what we can do! Come see, I just finished it!” she babbled, hands clasped with a bit of a childishly excited heel bounce.

“Finished what?” Lovelace asked.

“Well, since Speed’s so small now, it made me think of flea circuses — so Daddy and I started building a whole three-ring obstacle course play park for him!”

“Really?” the Blossombow royal asked, brows rising over an open-mouthed grin. “Well, let’s see it then!” She stood up slightly ahead of Goldminter, grabbing Speed by the tiny waist and carrying him out of the room behind Banks.

Feeling a bit disoriented, the chestnut-haired one flinched until he felt solid surface evenly beneath his feet and the grip of his now-giantess handler withdraw. Blinking, he gave the thing wide visual sweeps. “Ohhh …This is pretty impressive!” he found himself saying.

“Oh, thank you, Speed! Well, we made it just for you, so go ahead and explore!” Twinkle chimed, bouncing again briefly.

“But then…” he gulped “…this IS all just to tickle me!” He quieted his voice even further, thinking softly aloud “Wonder what kind of gizmos and traps she set up in this place?!”

With one last glance over his shoulder and up at his owners, he sighed, taking his first step, walking solidly but slowly cautious. Even from where he stood, he saw the otherwise miniature brightly colored tents and pavilions and bridges and archways. With a glance down, he also noticed places where there was a discernible split or several on the floor, as if those were designed to slide in and out of place.

The three girls — soon rejoined by the other three — watched in golf tournament silence as the chestnut-haired one ventured further. The circus starlet leaned over to and fro, whispering excitedly into the others’ ears about the various mechanisms he had yet to discover. Speed couldn’t quite make out her words, but distinctly heard the nigh-on sinister chuckling between them.

Finally, as he came to a stop on a particular section, he heard and felt spring-loaded cuffs appear to snap around his ankles. With barely time for a gasp and a yell, a section the floor behind him receded enough to let the gears on the manacles swing him backward, not too forcefully thudding him upside-down against the front wall of a small but not so claustrophobic hidden compartment.

“Ohh! Hohhh…that’s one way to find out!” he uttered, trying to look around and struggle in both the cuffs at his ankles and the additional ones that had grabbed his wrists — though couldn’t do much in the way of either. With a frustrated sigh, he spasmed, launching back into laughter as more exceptionally tiny whirring brushes, feathers, and digits in a staggered amount dug into his feet and toes, popping out of the close walls around him and getting at all this sensitive spots on top of and under his shirt. “BAAHAHAHAHA! NOOHO! Did I loHOHOse alrEHEady?! STAHAP! STAHAHAP! TUHURN IT OFF!”

Naturally, strategically embedded camera lenses streamed fair-for-the-day video and audio to a connected portable Magnavox TV that Twinkle set down, and turned on.

“Ooh, looks like he stepped into a good one!” Silvana mused, turning. “How long will it go for?”

“Only a few minutes — but the trap resets so it’s possible he’ll step on it again!” Banks explained.

“This is truly ingenious!” Petal noted, “But where did you and your father get the money and materials for all this?”

“Well, my uncle is a technician and an electrician,” the circus starlet said with a grinning nod, “He helped us with a lot of it, too. Because of his job, he gets all kinds of access to early prototypes of things not on the market just yet!”

“That’s amazing! And lucky,” Jeannine spoke up. “It’s very clever and cute, though.”

“Thank you! I’ll tell my dad and my uncle that you liked it. I’m sure they’ll be so happy to hear you were so happy with it!”

All returned their eyes and full attentions to the one-shrunken-driver circus set as the contraption swung Speed back upright about as quick as it had lowered him. The boy wobbled a bit, clutching his head, but shook it and brushed himself off a bit before pressing on.

The first gap bridging thing he came across resembled recess monkey bars. With a snort, he climbed up them — but began crawling across the top to avoid the most typical attack. However, the contraption, and by extension, the Banks clan, seemed to have anticipated this, and the mini-mechanical arms swung up, digging into his sides. 

“YahaHAHEhehe!” the chestnut-haired one uttered, trying to continue but beginning to lose his balance in reflexively pulling away from the tickling prods. With another “Oh!” he slipped, but kept enough of a grasp on the bars to keep from falling completely. And now as expected, an onslaught of underarm tickles followed.

With a squinting half-flinching glance below him, he just managed to make out a similar divide in the floor to the first trap he’d triggered. Not wanting to find out what that hollow contained, despite his laughing and the unbearable tingling, he reached the end and swung off, landing on his feet — though teetering and collapsing to a kneel. With another groan and rub of his head, he straightened himself and pressed on.

As he came to a patch of albeit fake grass and shrubbery, he spied chairs and tables and longed to sit down — but knew all too well even if this area was designed to be lenient, it certainly wasn’t a conventional rest stop. Finding the hedge gap he’d entered through now filled in with another small sliding section of shrub, he pivoted some, finally deciding to cut through the maze at the opposite corner.

It wasn’t long since he’d started slogging through narrow paths between the leafy rows that he felt and heard something else click — not sure if he’d stepped on it or bumped into it — and exclaimed wordlessly as the entire patch of maze folded over onto itself once, then again from the sides, trapping him inside a box of immobilizing flora. Which began to rustle and spin, tickling even through his clothes; the needles of the hedge weren’t quite sharp, but not quite soft, making for a relatively merciless very inescapable full-body tickle.

“HAHAHA! AHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! NO, NO! LEHET ME OUT OF HEHERE!” he cried, eyes shut, though the perceptibly dark temporary box left little to see anyway.

“That’s so clever!” Jeannine said, leaning forward. “Did you think of that yourself, Twink?”

“Yes!” the starlet replied. “I wrote down a bunch of ideas — and my uncle said we might not be able to do them all, and this one took some time, but we got it and I love it!”

“This is SO much fun!” the princess said, giggling and clapping. “This is way better than anything we could have done ourselves! I could watch this all day…”

“Well, why not?” Goldminter asked with a smirk. “I can go make some popcorn if you’ve got any…”

“Nonsense, my servants can do that! But what a wonderful idea!” the Blossombow royal said, quickly clanging a bell to draw the attention of more palace guards/servants. “Please make some popcorn for us and bring it here!”

“Extra salty!” the since-quieter Gracious piped up.

“Extra buttery!” Twinkle echoed.

“Yes, madams!” the guarding servants acknowledged, bowing and briskly bowing out.

A much dizzier and breathless Speed emerged as the maze box returned to its flat state. Stumbling out of it onto the ‘road’, he paused to catch said breath. Looking up to see his gleeful captors/owners munching snacks, he sighed again, longer, then discreetly pouting as he turned to face away. “If they were going to just wind up watching me on a course, why couldn’t they have just gotten me a toy car or miniaturized the Mach Five?” He folded his arms, lip protruding as he pouted deeper. “I’d rather be driving!”


	8. Racer in a Strange Land

At that moment, there was a commotion whose din reached the sitting room in the form of guards bursting in breathless. “Princess! There are men attacking the palace! You and your friends must get to safety! Hurry, go! We’ll hold them off!”

However, two more shots of gunfire made liars of them as they collapsed to the floor in face-first heaps. The girls screamed, drawing back up onto the couch.

“Ohh!” the miniature chestnut-haired one uttered, dodging a bullet that struck the contraption, nearly cracking it completely in half and visibly shorting out several mechanisms. The boy raised his arms, flying sparks just missing him.

“Oh NO! My Speed circus!” Twinkle lamented, eyes welling up. “Daddy and I worked so hard on that!”

“Speed!” Petal uttered, lunging forward and grabbing for him. The tiny chesnut-haired one grunted, bracing himself as the Blossombow royal curled her fingers tightly around him.

“Stop right there!” the armed invader snapped, pausing and aiming his gun at the girl in the veil. “What’s that you’ve got? Hand it over — NOW!”

“NO! I won’t let you hurt me or my friends and I WON’T let you do ANYthing to poor Speed!” She turned at the waist with a glare, cupping her other hand over her fist.

“Speed? What are you talking about? WHO are you talking about?!” the man added, edge in his voice even sharper. While two more held their barrels steadily at the other five ladies, their leader stepped forward, his pistol inches from the host Princess’s face as he snapped his fingers around her wrist, forcing her hand open with a wrenching squeeze.

One of his fellows quickly snatched the small boy from her, turning up his palm and raising his hand closer to his eyes, peering at him. “It’s a person! Or was…” the man mused.

“I KNOW that kid!” piped up a third, “I’d know him anywhere! That’s famous car racer Speed Racer!”

Despite technically not being in any more danger than he already was, the chestnut-haired one gazed up at the comparatively giant invader, looking him in the massive eye as his heart pounded faster.

“You mean the one who’s been missing for months? Hmm…” their leader said, “In that case, we may be able to use him. Stay where you are, girls, and we won’t have to hurt you. DON’T you DARE follow us!”

Backing out of the doorway, the men blocked it with as much furniture as they could drag and shove in ten minutes, before pivoting and dashing off. Speed let out another “OH!” as he was slipped into a zip-pocket and trapped by the sealing teeth.

Feeling dizzy in the jostling darkness, all Speed could do is try to make himself comfortable and endure the wait. After a few moments more, his lids drooped shut, and he let himself doze off.  
___

The clacking noise of the metal teeth stirred him mostly awake again, and he’d barely remembered where he was before he felt himself flip upside-down, belly-flopping into another calloused male hand.

He pushed himself up on all fours, turning to glimpse the new large eye focused on him. “You’re right! I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it, but this is Speed Racer, all right! Nice steal, blunderheads! But why is he so tiny?”

“Apparently those rich girls all pitched in for some magic potions that shrunk him down so they could play with him like a plastic pocket doll!” he heard one of the others explain.

Wearily, Speed slid to a more comfortable sit, saying “Those aren’t size-changing potions, they’re —!”

And finally, all of the mad science strain on his body released, returning him to normal life size in a blink, both he and the gang leader crying out as he landed on the floor, his tailbone squashing the man’s hand.

“Looks like he’s going to need some more,” one of the thieves mumbled, reaching for the needle, nose dropper, and bottles.

“No! WAIT!” the boy protested, already cringing.

Then the shrill rattle of a phone ring drowned out both of them. Shaking and rubbing his injured hand, the leader grabbed the receiver. “Yes, who is it this time? …oh! So sorry, sir, I didn’t mean — …hmm? Yes…” He turned, eyeing the chestnut-haired one again; then grinning. “Actually, we do! Funny story, really, er — yes, of course, I’ll bring him over right away and explain when we get there. …Yessir! Yes, Boss, absolutely. See you soon!”

“Now what?” Speed asked as two of them yanked him to his still-bare feet.

“Turns out you fell right into our hands at just the right time! But I’ll let the big boss spell it out for you. Right now, just come with us and don’t make a peep otherwise, or you’ll be sorry! Trust me!”

Flinching, the boy relented “Yessir. I’ll keep quiet…”  
___

Grabbing Speed by the chin, and turning his head to and fro before looking the rest of him over, a larger man in a hat with discernibly Cuban cigar in his teeth uttered with a smoke-choked wheeze “Consider yourself lucky, little boy! You just earned yourself a ticket to space!”

“Space?!” the chesnut-haired one echoed, wriggling a bit in a more typical cross-wristed rope bind. “What on Earth d’you mean by that?”

“Shut up and lemme tell ya! Dumb kid… See, lots of people think we’ve already made contact with a bunch of aliens from way out in outer space. And while we keep telling ‘em they’re crazy, they’re actually right!”

“Ohhh… HUH?” the boy said, eyes wide, blinking, brows lightly angled with sweat beading.

“See, our government and their whack-a-doo government have been talking for years now, and turns out we both want to learn a bit more about each other. So we’ve made a deal, decided to try a little exchange program —”

“Exchange pr — you mean you’re going to purposely let me get kidnapped by a bunch of space aliens?!” Speed cried. “Just so you can —!”

Nodding at a look from the cigar-smoking one, one of the men still holding the chestnut-haired one by the shoulder gave him a quieting wallop to the jaw.

“Dumb kid!” the larger man echoed, “I JUST told you it was an exchange! That means we hand you over real nicely and they take you along real nicely, then they let one of theirs go real nicely and we real nicely take a good look at whoever they pick to take a vacation on Earth for a few years.”

“A FEW YEARS?!” the boy couldn’t help but echo, jaw slacking, heart now almost bashing through his rib cage. “No, NO — NOOOO! I’ve been away from home for too long. I want to GO HOME! I don’t want to wind up even farther away from it! I WON’T LET YOU! I won’t LET you just let me get taken away to some alien planet in some faraway galaxy! That’s CRAZY! Do you even hear yourselves?!”

For that, he got another whack, on the opposite cheek this time. The cigar-chewer chuckled, smoke wisping through the spaces in his crooked teeth; bared in a wide, sludge-slurping grin.

“You’re whining on like you think you have a choice, kid! It’s already been decided. Besides, you just admitted you haven’t been home in months, so your sappy little family won’t know the difference! AND we get to get in on some space technology that’ll put us ahead of Russia, Germany, Italy, and just about every other country and space program on Earth! You think we’d let some sob story come between us and the greater good?”

“I DON’T CA—!”

Then the phone rang again. Picking it up, the larger man uttered a “Uh-huh, yah…uh-huh…uh-huh…okay, good! Great, we’ll be there soon! Tell ‘em two shakes!” Slamming the receiver down, he locked his eyes on the chestnut-haired one. “They’re here! Time to get packing and make history! You oughta be proud, kid! You’re gonna take a bigger leap than any Ruskie space-nut could ever dream!”  
___

Speed was marched out, still trussed up, half-dragged and half-prodded on by four men, followed by their leader and a few others, one with a Polaroid camera. Oddly though fittingly enough, a hominid-ish but certainly non-human party mirrored their trek down the NASA tarmac.

The aliens were mostly gray, almost as one would expect, but their heads lacked eyes or ears, or anything more than a general jaw-having outline. Considering that they looked to be wearing boots, it seemed that it was merely a form of form-fitting futuristic sort of clothing/armor more than their own bodies. Still, it was unnerving.

For a few tense minutes, the boy fidgeted, shivering, and watching the translation-for-translation exchange. His ‘exchange student’ counterpart seemed much calmer — though the bindings around his trunk and upper limbs signaled that he hadn’t quite volunteered either.

Finally, the men stepped back and one of the aliens stepped forward, pausing before raising a hand to clutch at the boy’s red ascot, taking it like a leash and tugging the chestnut-haired one along behind them. Speed tried to glance back but only got a sharp tug forward from his new captor, like a distracted puppy.

Gazing up at the ship and the almost Seussian stairwell into it, the boy finally snapped his bonds and darted away from the mostly-gray ones. In a panic, he clung to the closest part of a nearby shuttle tow truck and tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

The beings, who had been so eerily silent, began making startled and disgruntled noises, slapping and tugging at him. The boy heard his human captors rushing over amidst angry shouting. They slapped and pinched at him, but still Speed held his ground, eyes squeezed shut, not even bothering to protest but putting all his strength into grasping that rail.

One mook leaned over to another, whispering with a bit of a smirk — which then rubbed off on the other. He shared the tidbit with the larger man who cocked an eyebrow, but quickly nodded, waving his hand.

“C’mon now, lighten up!” one of the men coaxed, and Speed felt his fingers slide to his waist, the jolting squeezes beginning. “Let’s not make a big ruckus outta this, huh? Let’s show these guys how nice and polite and cooperative we humans can be, huh?”

A second mook cut a bit more down to the chase, wiggling fingers at his ribs and prodding his hips. “Cootchie coo! C’mon, let go and go with the nice spacemen, won’tcha?”

“HmmHMHMhmhmm!” The chesnut-haired one gritted his teeth with a helpless widening grin, though again, struggled to save his breath and focus.

The larger man’s cigar swayed in his teeth like an undecided cat’s tail before he finally joined the fray, going straight for the boy’s sleeves, adding “You’re makin’ us look ridiculous! Though, not as ridiculous as you look right now! Is this really what you want these cockamamie ET’s to think about ya right now? Ya dumb kid! Let go!”

Speed tried to ignore him, though he couldn’t help the realization, among growing chuckles as he squirmed, almost wrenching his own grip off. 

The aliens indeed watched the scenario unfold with quite the fascination. Finally, they exchanged a few head gestures and noises of their own before one of them approached the boy. The larger man turned; then quickly stepped aside.

The chestnut-haired one didn’t see but felt the intense tingling touch of the mostly-formless spaceman’s fingertips sliding down his nape and dragging over his shoulder blades. The sensation shot through him, forcing an “AAHAHAHAHA!” from his lips and relinquishing his grip instantly like a tickling touch-based taser. He was then hoisted up by all four beings who sprang to a jog, carrying him through the spaceship door which he didn’t see but heard shut with a slam, the muffled sound of rocket engines mushrooming shortly after.  
___

Opening his eyes halfway with a groan, the boy gazed out across the room. Glancing down, he saw and felt the rather comfortable non-metal cuffs snugly around his wrists and ankles, arms out at their lengths to each side, feet apart in a wide wedge. It was Fastbucks’s mountain laboratory all over again, though this time the wall behind him felt a bit warmer, with the same hum and beeps as the rest of the machine-adorned walls.

_“Is this really what you want these cockamamie ET’s to think about ya right now? Ya dumb kid!”_

How had those street gang/government mooks realized his weakness to tickling? Though, he then flinched where he couldn’t facepalm — remembering how well-publicized his Tickle Machine Tour had been, and how popular Princess Petal’s publications were. At this point, it would be a surprise to find anyone from here to the next five star systems that hadn’t heard through Martha’s entire Vineyard that he was hilariously highly ticklable.

It might’ve taken his space-travelling captors some time to find it out, but instead, he had let them see that sure enough, he could be tickled into obeying. There was absolutely no chance to avoid more copious amounts of torture now. 

Suits off, the beings revealed that they did in fact have features on their faces, though, mouths, eyes, and ears sat in a jarring arrangement that would have startled even Pablo Picasso. They had a set of twitching antennae on what amounted to their chins, which tickled when they leaned in close to observe him, the feelers of various lengths falling on his arm or neck or cheek. At first, they all did this unintentionally — and upon realizing, began to do it very intentionally.

One of them grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up high with no warning, getting an “Ohh!” from him — and then a “HAHAHA! AHAhahahaHAHA!” when it waggled fingers and chin-tennae across it, predictably prodding into his navel.

A flurry of side squeezes squeezed even more laughter from him, causing him to reflexively writhe and arch his back what little he could, unfortunately inviting his examiners to slide their appendages there and repeat the same routine with his stomach, reacting with even more gleeful surprise when his laughter and wriggling grew louder, shriller, and more frantic.

“NOHOHO! NAHA! NAHAT THEHERE! PLEHEHEEEASE NOT MY BAHACK! PLEHEASE NO!”

As their true feet appeared to have no toes, they were further amused by his, naturally taking their arduous time feeling and grabbing and tweaking and prodding between them. Thankfully for a moment, the tears they’d already pushed him to caught their attention next, giving him a slight break. He flinched as their fingers and faces and lights and tinier surgical-esque gizmos came nearer to his corneas.

Since it was tickling his feet that had made him cry, they were unaware thus far that tickling anywhere else would produce the same effect, and returned to returned to prodding and raking at his soles and toes until more eye-water drizzled down his reddened cheeks.

Again, finally, thankfully, they withdrew — but only to huddle around a book with an apparent language and depictions the chestnut-haired one couldn’t begin to understand, least of all in his current condition. Shortly thereafter, a couple of them ran off, only to apparently fetch some smaller furball-like creatures. He didn’t know if they were pets or their version of uncanny robotic kids’ toys, but they had tongues — some large and long, some many.

Speed leaned as far forward to glimpse them as they were set on the floor, crawling toward him. With another frenzied thrash, he began blurting “NO! I DON’T WANT MY FEET LICKED! STOP! DON’T! I DON’T WANT MY FEET LICKED! I DON’T WANT MY FEET LICKED!” With a small roar, he finally first managed to yank the cuffs out further before altogether snapping them, sliding uncoordinatedly to a heap on the floor before bolting — or attempting to until several more of them grabbed his arms and shoulders and held him. They tried to drag him back, but he persisted enough to inch the whole lot of them forward.

With plenty of what amounted to panicked yelling and possibly cursing coworkers in their own tongue, one of them ran out only to come back with what was undeniably an official translator tablet of some sort. And the chestnut-haired one made a face that with any more energy would have been a glare of ‘Why the hell didn’t you use that thing sooner?!’

He echoed in a bleat “I don’t want my feet licked!” which appeared in symbols they seemed to recognize. With another utterance from the leader of the current group, it appeared slowly in Roman letters.

WHY NOT?

With an eye-rolling, shoulder-shrugging sigh, he let his head hang for a moment before lifting it. “I…because I just — I don’t…want it. That’s all.” With another breath, he even smiled weakly, in spite of himself, hearing himself admit “I don’t hate tickling, being tickled — but…I just don’t like it that way…right now.” He wondered to himself if that was how he truly felt or simply what his ex-mistress Miss Petal had driven into him, but either way, he paused to let the tablet convey his words, letting gravity take the weight of his head again with a smaller sigh.

WE CAN TICKLE YOU?

“Sure,” he found himself admitting. They seemed to enjoy it about as much as the girls had, and he didn’t want to risk upsetting them, either. Or wind up lonely and starving in some far-off cell they’d lock him away in since they couldn’t play with him. Or something. And since he doubted he’d see another human being for a long time, he’d settle for some attention, even if it was tickle-torture.

They seemed placated, anyway. LICK SOMEWHERE ELSE? OR NO?

He’d been half-expecting that sort of answer. Again, he relented “Sure.”

WHERE?

And for the next few undeterminable units of time, he flinched, helplessly grinning and giggling as the little furry things lapped at his neck and cheeks. As with an arrest back on Earth, since he’d been mostly compliant, it seemed they were willing to give him some slack as well. Letting him curl up in a corner of what they had indeed called a ‘guest room’ — albeit that they'd still loosely leashed him to the wall with an extension they'd made to his ascot. Some of the little lickly furballs slid down into his lap, seeming to purr like cats even if the rest of their manners were more strikingly canine. They were quite pleasant little companions. Apparently they had been manufactured, but were indeed independently sentient.

He’d told them his name, but much like English to Chinese, while they had a word that sounded similar, it happened to have the meaning of ‘popular appetizer’. The closest word that carried the most similar meaning of ‘make haste’ was pronounced roughly ‘chi-mesh-rile’. Speed’s best pronunciation amounted to ‘chimeshrul’ which they accepted, ‘Chim’ for short — to the boy’s simultaneous chagrin and amusement.

The chesnut-haired one laughed genuinely to himself with a shake of his head. “They’ve really make a monkey out of me, haven’t they? …then again, so did almost everybody back home! …even so…I do still miss Mom, and Dad…Trixie, Sparky…Spritle AND Chim-Chim, too.” With another sigh, he leaned back against the wall, letting his vision of the ceiling blurr, his mind wandering off.


	9. Lab Rabbit

The next thing he knew, a figure was standing in the doorway calling out to him. “Chim? Chimesh? Are you awake?”

“Oh — ohh…” he uttered, looking up. “Well, I am now. …Hi… Who…who are you?”

“My name is Chirca-Citin-Sri,” it said, seeming to smile.

“Chirca-siteen-surry… It’s nice to meet you,” he said, reflexively tugging a bit on his ascot-turned-collar. Eyes locked to hers, he found himself asking “Are you…a…girl? Female, I mean? It’s just…your voice, it…”

“We have seven genders,” Chirca replied quickly.

“Oh.”  
“But yes, I am female.”

“Oh! …well, you’re very pretty!” he said, smiling.

“You…think so?” Now she sounded unsure. Regardless, she sat down on the bed, perpendicular to him — and scooped up his nearest ankle without a warning, making him tense. She just seemed to be observing it for the moment, though. Finally, she turned to look at him again, asking “May I see your feet? I won’t lick them, I promise.”

Twitching with a sheepish look and titter to match, he said “Oh, sure. I guess so…” and squirmed quite a bit when she returned to meticulously investigating his toes. “HmhmHMHM!”

“Why don’t you like people to touch your feet?” she asked.

“It’s — ihit’s not that,” he replied, half-flinching with a grin, “I don’t mind them being touched. It’s just that I didn’t want them licked.”

“Why’s that?”

“Becauhause they’re very ticklish — and licking is one of the most ticklish things you can do.” As she idly slid her finger over the webbing between the second and third, he added “Behesides thahat!”

She paused, withdrawing to only pet lightly across the tips back and forth, which actually seemed to relax him; he sighed and lay back a little, eyes half on the ceiling again.

“It’s all very interesting to me,” she went on, “We don’t have this. A touch on the skin that makes us react like this. We’ve seen it in many other species, though…”

“Oh? Wait, but if you’re not ticklish, does that mean…you don’t have pain?” the boy asked, reiterating “That you can’t feel pain? The tickle sensation and the pain sensation are related for us.”

“I don’t think we have pain as you know it, but we do know when our systems are damaged. It’s a sort of nagging sense in our heads. We can sense it no matter where it is, but it doesn’t come up just anywhere.”  
“I see…that seems strange to me — but I guess that’s why your…leaders…wanted to do this exchange. To learn more about us, and for us to learn more about you. Isn’t that right?”

She seemed to pause, looking down, though still cradling his heel. “It is — but I think it’s because my ‘leaders’ as you say…because they want to…they want to destroy your planet. Or take it over at the very least. I’ve heard them talk about it.”

Now Speed sat up “You’re planning to enslave us and take over our planet? Really?! I can’t let you do that!” — predictably flopping back down, writhing with guffaws as Chirca returned to tickling his toes, not just prodding and scritching but channeling that same immense energy. “HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA! NOHO! STAHAAP!”

“It seems like it will be quite easy…that’s why I’m afraid,” she said finally, stopping for the moment, looking over at him as he struggled to catch his breath.

Rising on his elbows, he simpered. “Well, the truth is, most other people on Earth aren’t nearly as ticklish as me, if that’s your plan. My captors before now have been feeding me full of these liquid concoctions that have been making my nerves crazy sensitive. I’M not even normally this ticklish! You’ll have a bit of a harder time taking over our planet that way…”

“Well, if it worked for you, can’t it work for everyone else?” she asked, giving a rather self-deprecating grin of her own.

“Maybe so…” he found himself admitting, “…but there are some people who just aren’t ticklish no matter what. You wouldn’t be able to do anything with them. Or to them, for that matter.”

“You said you are susceptible to pain though, it’s related isn’t it? That’s what you said.” With that, she grabbed his toe again, turning it a little too far one way too fast.

“OW!” he cried, wincing. “Y-Yes…we have pain…nngh…” then opening an eye again. “But you really don’t seem like the type to just bully and beat a whole race or planet of people into submission.” He sighed a little when he felt her gently rub that same toe, dulling the lingering ache.

“We aren’t — at least I don’t think we are. But that’s why. That’s why we took you — to see if there was a way we could subdue you, your species, without resorting to the barbarism you’re always inflicting on yourselves.”

“Good point,” he professed, letting his head hang and his gaze drop with it. “But we’re pretty good fighters. Whatever you try to do to us, it won’t be easy. We won’t go down without a fight.”

“And I know we won’t leave without one, either.”

“Chirca…” the chestnut-haired one began, but let his words fade, sighing once more, lids drooping closed. “Just when are you planning to attack?”

“In a few chuh-lorns.”  
“Are those…years?”  
“I believe that’s the word you use for it.”  
“So you really are planning to keep me here for years? Until you can figure out how to fight back everyone else on Earth?”  
“That was the idea. And that’s why they taught me Earth language… Because humans have only the male and the female, and each is more easily manipulated by the other.”

The chestnut-haired one cocked his head ever so slightly, brow rising. “Not necessarily…we can be, but…we don’t always try to. We try to live in harmony — but, well…men consider women beautiful, and…women consider men very handsome. Most of the time. It’s how we, er —”

“Procreate?”

“Uh, well…that IS the technical term,” Speed said, cheeks half-wittingly flushed at the thought.

“So because I’m female, are you thinking of procreating with me, then?”

The boy’s eyes widened with a rapid few blinks, whereupon he clutched and rubbed at the back of his head anxiously. “That only happens in science fiction TV shows and movies, really…”

“You said I was ‘pretty’.”  
“And…I think you ARE! But…just…not quite like that. Not to me. I already have a girl — er, female.”  
“Oh, you do?”  
“Yes, her name’s Trixie. Her father owns an aviation company, and mine owns a car factory. So…they worked together a lot and we got to see each other a lot. And…become friends — and then…eventually…more than friends.”

“I see,” she said. And then was extremely silent.

“Chirca, I…I – I didn’t mean to upset you!” Speed said as quickly as he could. “Please don’t be mad…”

However, she turned to him with a genuine smile that he could tell. “Oh, no! I’m not upset at all. I came here to learn, and you’ve been helping me do that so much. I’m glad you think I’m pretty but not enough to procreate with. I think you’re…what was the word you used? ‘Handsome’ — but not enough to procreate with. Besides, I’m not even in a position to procreate anyway. I have so much work to do, and I’m not ready for that.”

“Ohh,” the boy said, then smiled broadly. “Well, great! I’m glad we can understand each other. And even be friends, if nothing else. I’ve been so lonely since we’ve left Earth, it just feels good to talk to anyone at all.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that,” she echoed. Then she looked at him slyly in a way that seemed to transcend galaxies. “Would you mind if I —?”

“Tickled me some more, I bet,” he finished. “And, sure, okay. Like I said, I don’t really mind it at all — just that sometimes it can be a little too much at one time.”

“Thank you. I’ll try not to reach your limits,” she said, then asking, hands already raised, fingers and chin-tennae twitching. “Where are you MOST ticklish, though?”

Speed jumped, more sweat beading as he pressed himself back against the wall. “I…don’t know if I’m comfortable telling you that,” he said, glancing back swiftly, “but…for right now, honestly, there isn’t much of me that isn’t very, very ticklish!”

He caught her eyes, and she held her more mischievous stare — which he realized too late was to distract him from her snatching up his sides and making relentless strategic squeezes.

“AHAAHAHAHAHA! CHIHIRCAHAHAA! WAIHAIT! HAHAHAHA!” he cried shrilly, instinctively trying to curl, though his ascot-leash-collar kept him from achieving a full armadillo-esque coil. Her chin-tennae danced across his stomach and sides while her fingers slid up, spidering over his ribs and digging under his arms. “AHEHEE! HEHEHEAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! HAHA! CAHAN’T BREHEATHE! EHEHE!”

“Oh, shoot, humans do need to breathe, don’t they?” she said, instantly withdrawing, “Gyards, Chimesh! I’m so sorry…”

“It’s…okay…thank…you…” he managed to bleat between heaving panting. This was something his fellow humans would’ve certainly ignored, so at the moment, he was grateful for a cautious and somewhat friendly alien captor.

After a few moments, she tilted her head, asking “Is tickling used as a punishment in your culture? Some of my sources say yes, but many of them say no. I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

With a wheezy chucklesnort, he answered “Only among friends and family usually, outside of television and cartoons. Otherwise, interrogations use pain only. And usually a lot of pain. Especially between males.”

“Oh…I see,” she echoed. Then ventured “Does that mean…by my tickling you…do you consider me…a friend? Or…a family?”

Letting her help him to resuming a more proper sit, he said “Well, friends, sure. You could only be family if we…married or...got adopted, or something like that.”

“Ohhhh,” she said, “Very interesting!”

“Mmhm,” he mumble-echoed.

“Hmm?” she literally echoed.

“I think it is too,” he explained, “I think a lot of even my own customs are pretty interesting when you stop to think about them.”

“Me too!” she said.

After another pause that was much less tense than any before, he asked “Chirca, do you…could you possibly get me some more water? Please?”

“Oh, liquid sustenance! Of course!” She stood up, darting out the door at a lean, and returning with what looked like a needle-less painted porcelain cactus. He held out both hands as she gave it to him. Noticing his confused haze, she explained “Just put your lips right here and tip it…I think as you would a…’cup’? Or is it a…’glass’?”

“Either, really,” he said, before following her instructions, sighing as he gulped it down. It had a bit of an almost tea-like taste, though there was a hint of something else he couldn’t recognize. It was at least as quenching as normal tap water, though.  
___

The next day, the alien girl was allowed to stay with their human trade captive while he lay cuffed to a table — thankfully not spread-eagle for once — in the center of a room that certainly had a surgical feel. He closed his eyes for a moment, resting them from the somewhat blinding overhead light. Turning, though he still couldn’t quite look at her fully, he asked “What’re they gonna do to me, Chirca?”

She gently pet his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, a trick she’d gleaned from one of their few books on human interaction. And it seemed to work; she sensed his tension drop even if only a small amount. “Today they’re just going to explore, document, and record your insides,” she explained.

His tension rose again. “My insides? How’re they going to do that?”

Like a cartoon or perhaps medical drama cue, a small group of apparent surgeons entered, muttering in their language and surrounding the boy. One of them adjusted the light, then turned to grab something off a table. As it did so, two of the other aliens gently grabbed at his jaws and mouth, trying to force it open. With a wince, the chestnut-haired one steeled them, teeth clenching not unlike his previous attempt to remain on Earth.

“Just let them do their job, Chimesh,” Chirca tried to coax. When he didn’t budge, she silently slid a finger to the base of his nape at the top of his shoulders and administered another flurry of tingles that popped his jaws open in seconds.

“HAHAHA! Aarnng…nnnhgl —!” Speed uttered as they quickly forced in a soft plastic device that was part dentist’s mouth guard, part esophageal tube. Squinting in the light, he shut his eyes again, relenting as they inserted another smaller tube into his trachea and nostrils. “…nngh…”

Hearing a strange soft clicking and whirring noise, the boy dared to open his eyes — immediately regretting it when he saw what looked like a mechanical cross between a fishing lure, jig, and a millipede. Something straight out of a science-fiction movie that wouldn’t be made for another thirty-three years.

“HAAGH!” he reflexively bellowed, fidgeting, more frantic by the second. Then he felt Chirca’s squeeze on his hand again, hearing her voice close to his right ear.

“Please try to relax, Chim…it’ll go a lot quicker and smoother if you do. I’ll make sure they won’t hurt you too badly, okay?”

“Ahkah,” he mumbled, letting his eyes close again, returning the alien girl’s cling. He tried to bear the feel of it rattling down the tube and crawling the rest of the way into his stomach. However, after a few minutes, he couldn’t help letting out another garbled cry, fingers and toes curling. “IH HARS! PURZ STAH!”

He heard Chirca stand up and convey something to her fellows, who paused, saying a few more things among themselves, then quickly moved up by his head, turning it and feeding something into his ear that buzzed and prickled — then finally the pain subsided. Entirely.

When they then removed the mouth tube, the chestnut-haired one grunted, asking wearily “What…what did they do? …but thank you so much…”

Leaning back down, she replied “They just disconnected your Autonomic Nervous System for now so you won’t feel any pain. I’m glad it worked.”

“Huh? Just disconnected my —! Well, they’ll hook it back up again, won’t they?”  
“Certainly. When they’re done.”  
“All right, well, then I’m glad it worked too.”

The ‘operation’ dragged on, the boy wondering why they hadn’t sedated him — though by now, he felt as if he could fall asleep on his own. For a while, he drifted off, being half-awake for moments at a time. His eyes snapped open again when they accommodated the data bug out of his body about the same way it had gone in. It seems they had preemptively hooked his nerves back up.


	10. Stop-and-Go Traffick

With a soft groan, Speed sat up, clutching his head, a dizzy blur slowly fading. “Oh…where am I?”

“You’re in sick bay, in recovery,” Chirca explained calmly. “The internal analysis was a success.”

“Oh, well, that’s good at least…” the chesnut-haired one mumbled. “So now what will they do with me?”

The alien girl paused. “Well…since you’re not technically an average human specimen, my leaders have decided to sell you.”

Wide-eyed and mildly slack-jawed, the boy uttered “WHAT? …Not again!”

Palms-upturned in a shrug, Chirca added “We have allies in a nearby system whose planet runs on sound energy. They paid a high price for you!”

“I’ll bet…” was all Speed could think to say before letting his still-heavy eyelids close and letting the sheets and pillow take his weight once more.  
___

Suddenly, the boy felt jolted awake, with a jumping twitch, quickly turning his head and eyes toward his caretaker and a new face — which was also more humanoid than he’d been expecting. Comparatively, it looked like a slightly more tapir-nosed, cookie-eared young teenager getting a crash course in a new video game console.

“…which will bring him to consciousness, and then you can press this button to increase sensitivity — don’t hold it too long or his system will be too flooded and you’ll have to wait ‘til it drains for maximum efficiency. Also this one will disable his movement if he’s struggling too much — don’t blame him, it’s all new, and he doesn’t mean to fight you, his body’s just not used to this process as much.”

“Huh?” he uttered in a mumbly breath “My —!” and indeed, immediately felt his will to sit up brickwalled by the rest of him. Below the neck, at least.”…I can’t move!”

“Ohmygawd, he tawks!” uttered the perceptibly scrawny teenage-y one, in a distinctly male but oddly utterly Californian dialect with a pinch of New Zelander.

“Of course he does, Kukri!” Chirca explained cheerfully. “He is alive, after all!”

“But like, he’s gonna be pumpin’ out sound for us, won’t he be all worn out and stuff?”  
“Well, humans run animals on machines all day, and they make all kinds of noise. They’re not un-used to it.”  
“Oh, cool, so they use live ones for stuff too. Okay, I was SUPER worried…but that’s cool, Ms. Citin-Sri!”

When the one apparently named Kukri pointed the device at him and pressed one of the buttons, the chestnut-haired one quickly pushed himself to a sit, blinking, quickly asking “What did you mean about ‘increasing my sensitivity and flooding my system’?”

Citin-Sri explained posthaste “Oh, in addition to exploring your innards, we took the time to integrate your liquid supplements into your body — like any surgical implant, though I believe the one closest to what we made is called an ‘insulin pump’. Though this one obviously pumps the other agents you’re familiar with.”

Speed felt his heart pound harder. “Y-You…you put that stuff inside me?!”

“Yes, as I explained. That way neither you nor your caretaker has to suffer the delay in administering them. It should be an ease to both of you.”

When the other, perceivably younger alien pressed said button, the boy indeed felt the same inner cold wash as he normally did whenever he got his ‘medicine’ and sneezed like clockwork, rubbing his nose with a sniffle.

“That means it’s working!” Chirca reiterated happily. Her protégé grinned.

“Cool!” Kukri exclaimed again, pushing the last button.

As the chestnut-haired one felt his consciousness slip seamlessly, he groggily muttered “Now I know how a garage door feels…”  
___

The next thing he knew, he awoke sitting in some sort of bench-chair, ankles pinned in smooth stock-like cuffs, arms up, wrists pinned above his head likewise. With a yawn, he lifted his gaze to see his new alien owner standing by his feet, eyeing them, before glancing up at him. “Dude, you have some serious long legs…I mean, I know humans aren’t short, but…man, I’m surprised you can even still feel anything this far away!”

Speed jumped as Kukri tweaked his toes “HAHAHA! YeHEs! The huHUman bodyHE is…pretty amaziHIng!” sweat beading as he half-flinched.

“Okay, you just hang tight…I gotta finish hooking everything up…” the alien bid, turning and ducking and reaching over to grab and place various contraptions and gizmos around the chestnut-haired one’s body. Each had an extension that looked a bit like a metal q-tip, which he set gently against Speed’s skin in all the usual places. When he felt the eight multiple-hooked tips wedge between his toes, he preemptively squirmed, almost feeling all the usual tingles flowing.

“So this is how you’re going to tickle me?” the boy asked with another flinch.

“Huh? ‘Ti-kull’, whazzat?”  
“Tickling — the sensation that makes us laugh, that’s what I assume you’re doing, isn’t it?”  
“Ohhh, that’s what you call it? Weird… this right?”  
“YeheHAha! Yehehes! Thahat!”

“Sweet! Well, yeah,” Kukri gave the nearest-by device a pat. “These golronds can fire up quite a bit of zazzletricity — should give you that ‘ti-kull’ feeling. Don’t sweat it!”

“I wish I couldn’t,” the chestnut-haired one said. “I don’t know about you but that’s not exactly controllable for us.”

“Double-weird! Oh well, probably why you humans make such great workimals, right?”  
“Workimals? What’s that?”  
“Oh, like, living things…that work for a living. Y’know, heavy lifting stuff, milking, pulling, pushing, running, stuff like that…”

“Huh?!” He couldn’t see himself, but could feel the face he made. Hopefully, that had been a very broad overview of terms and Kukri wasn’t actually implying he intended the not-so-innocent definition of that term.

“Yeah! Cool, well, it’s all set — I’ll start you out at a kazillion zazz, that should be pretty comfortable. Just make sure to aim for this mod-pipe and it shouldn’t take long.”

Speed looked down at what looked like an oxygen mask at the end of a long rifle barrel. It came close but stopped inches from his lips. For the moment, he was glad not to have it shoved halfway down his esophagus like the contraption on the operation table.

If he hadn’t been oversensitized, a ‘kazillion zazz’ might have been bearable — but as it was, it jolted him again like an electric shock, and the simultaneous sensation of myriad fingertips, feathertips, and bristles dancing per usual across his skin.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAAA! HAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEASE NO!”

He could barely hear the alien over his own noise coupled with the reverb from the strange masklike mic. Finally it stopped, or rather, ground to a lengthy halt. After checking some specs, Kukri stepped closer, musing “Dude, Chimo! You’re off the charts, man! You voice is kicker! Already got like eight-six rhuloors!”

“Aheheh…! …is…is that good?”

“Good? That’s great! Like, we might only need to use you on reserve!”

“Huh!?” the chestnut-haired one echoed, grinning genuinely for the first time in roughly three days. “That IS great!” Pausing for a breath and a throat-wetting gulp, he added “Also, ‘Chimesh’ is what Chirca called me — but my real name is Speed, Speed Racer. Unless that means something else odd to you too?”

“Supidrayzir? No, man, that’s cool! It means ‘best of the best’!”

Also uttering a genuine laugh for the first time in several hours, the boy added “Perfect! That’s what I am — or at least what I always try to be! On my own planet, anyway.”

“Cool reams!” Kukri chimed, “Like, what do you do?”

“I’m a driver — car driver, car racer!” Speed began, a bit babbly in pleasantly surprised shock and some weariness from the usual belly-laughing. “I was about to do another race — when I got caught up with some nasty men with a grudge against me. After that, I got taken by them, and tortured, and put on display like some animal in a zoo. Then one thing led to another and…I ended up here. Or on Chirca’s ship, anyway.”

“Whoa, so what happened? They didn’t like your driving or somethin’?”  
“HaHA! Well, I guess you could say that…”

“Rugk!” came a commanding voice, making the alien jump and stiffen, turning as the chestnut-haired one followed his gaze.

“Yes, Mister Normnu!” he acknowledged with a typical salute.

“So this is the new Workcore?” Normnu asked, prodding the boy’s cheek.

“Yep! I’ve already given him some zazz — he’s got some serious numbers! See?”

The taller alien walked over, leaning down and peering. “What are you talking about? This gauge is only at 8.6%!

“What?!” Speed sputtered.

“Whoaaa…whoops, sorry ‘bout that Supid! Musta missed the noozle…” Pausing, he returned to his station. “Guess we’ll have to work a little more for a while. Sorry. But hey, I’ll push it to a pajillion zazz and maybe if you can do double, I can still quit early!”

“What’s a paj — AAHAHAAAA! HAHAHAAAA! NOHOHO NO STOP! STAHAHAAP!”

The supervisor watched the human howl and writhe what little he could, gaze sweeping to the storage gauge. With a nod, he said “There that’s more like it!” and gave Rugk a backslap before leaving as quietly as he’d entered. Though by this point, even a rocket engine breaking the sound barrier in a catastrophic thunderstorm would have been a pin-drop in comparison.

“Bye, Banfen — I mean, Mr. Normnu, sir!” Kukri said, repeating his salute.

The gauge wavered at half-full when the chestnut-haired one’s cacchinating and desticating faded into the usual silent stomach-heaving, eyes hazy, rolling.

“Oh shoot! Better let him cool down before he burns out!” Rugk thought aloud, fumbling for the remote and spamming the ‘power’ button.

With one last breathy groan, Speed flopped back against the chair-bench, battered eyes shut, temples drenched.  
___

Half-waking up again, the boy gazed up at the ceiling, gaze falling to a blurred stare at the far wall. When he reflexively pushed himself to a sit unhindered, he glanced down, eyes opening fully with a short “Ohh…” 

“Hey, Supid!” a smiling Kukri bid, “I felt bad for overdraining you like that so quick so…I figured you’d probably need a recoop break.”

“Wha — thanks! Thank you SO MUCH!” the chestnut-haired one said breathily, brows convex over a fatigued smile. “Could I get some water, please?”

“Watur? Oh, like, drink, right? Hang on…” Rugk rushed out, coming back in with a cup of something liquidy but also not quite the crystal clear dihyrogen monoxide Speed was used to. “There ya go!”

The human looked at it warily. “What is this stuff?”

“It’s fabejuice.”  
“What is that?”  
“Uhh, maybe I shouldn’t tell you…but it should work pretty good if my crash course in human body-ology taught me anything. Heh.”

The chestnut-haired one raised a brow, but still being maddeningly thirsty downed it to the last drop anyway. It had less of a taste than he’d been expecting, and it was more pleasant than he’d been dreading. For the moment, Kukri was right.

“So, you like to drive and stuff — hey, would you wanna maybe go and take some of my stuff to the launch bay? I mean, Mr. Normnu did want me to do it, but —“ he shrugged “— as long as it gets there, he shouldn’t mind. Besides, I also read that humans need to move around after sitting a long time so they don’t stiff up, so…figured you could use the break, too. That way it’s a double-win!”

“THANK YOU! Yes, certainly, I’ll do any delivery you want!” Speed echoed with an ear to ear open mouth grin. “Now which way is this launch bay?”  
___

The chestnut-haired one felt almost weightless in his giddiness as he approached the vehicle and hopped in. It wasn’t a car, it certainly wasn’t the Mach Five — but it was better than nothing. Despite the unfamiliar glyphs the dash and ostensibly shift were marked with, he went with his instinct, and found himself grinning again when he heard a strange but unmistakable engine noise mushroom under the hood.

He looked up, consulting Rugk’s map, and was at the delivery destination in no time. Jumping out, he walked over to the desk and occupied supervisor — who immediately then looked up. “Huh?! Who — what are you?” he asked.

“Uhhh, apparently I’m the new Workimal — er, Workcore,” the boy explained, “but Kukri was extremely nice and let me out to take this package to you.”

“Aagh, should’ve known it was that guy. Send a fleshpod to do his job ‘coz he’s such an airbrain. Well, thanks for that. You oughta get back to your machine before pleegs start to notice.”

“Pleegs?” Speed echoed, head lightly tilting.

“Y’know, uh…what’s that Terran word? Oh yeah, ‘people’! People’ll start to notice.”  
“Huh? Oh, is that machine important?”  
“It’s the central hub. Sends power to the whole hall.”  
“Oh, I see…”  
“So whaddaya waiting for? Get goin’!”

“O-Okay…sir, I will…” the chestnut-haired one acknowledged, stealing glances at another nearby vehicle poised toward the far reaches of space beyond the bay. Saying nothing, he turned on his heel, sprinting toward it.

“HEY! Get back here, ya squine!” the supervisor hollered, stepping out from behind the desk and giving chase.

Speed felt his pulse race as he came closer to the vehicle — though, looking over his shoulder, decided to try and hide for the moment to get the authority off his tail and give him a better head start whenever next he got the chance to fly the giant metal coop.

“Where’d you go? Drarrgh, I’m gonna give that Kukri kid the highest demerit I’ve ever issued for this!”

The chestnut-haired one tried to see out from behind the ship he’d pressed up against in a tightly huddled sit. Suddenly, he heard more voices in the opposite direction, and swung his gaze from one side to the other.

“So is the boss really sayin’ we gotta haul all these things all the way to Ærth?”  
“Yeah — it’s actually not that far. The asteroid field just makes it seem like a longer trip. Plays tricks on your occs, y’geddit?” 

Speed’s eyes widened. “Did he just say Earth? This might be my chance to finally get back home!” Sneaking closer to the transport ship, when both aliens’ backs were turned, he made a dive through the loading doors before one of them slammed it shut.

Seeing the wide array of potted and hanging plants, his eyes darted until he spied a decent-sized hiding spot. Unfortunately, the ship didn’t start — and the loading door swung open again, another voice barking “You’re sure you’ve got all the shipments?”

“Should all be there, Mr. Rifeek!”

As the apparent overseer leaned in to better inspect the cargo, the boy sat stone still, pulse pounding again. Though, when he felt something sweep up his nape, he doubled over away, clamping a hand over his mouth. Turning, he saw that the culprit appeared to be a fern-like frond from the flora he’d been sitting directly in front of.

Then he felt a similar leaflike sweep into his sleeve, at which he backed away, biting his tongue. Teeth gritted, he hissed “No, NO! Don’t tickle me — I have to be quiet or I’ll never get out of here!”

Still the plants persisted, yet another flitting over his stomach — and still the doors didn’t close, and the three aliens didn’t leave, or even move from their spots. Their conversation seemed to drag in a handful of tangents.

“Come on, come ON…!” the chestnut-haired one begged in a whisper, flinching then cringing as the plant continued its teasing; the first also re-joining in, now slipping into his opposite sleeve. “MmmnNNH! Not this again!”

Two longer, thicker vines snaked out, snatching his ankles tightly and yanking him flat to the floor, dragging him a ways across the floor toward it. However, unlike the Assassins’ initiation, instead of a shower of spears from an open ceiling tile, the grabby plant hoisted his feet up, skimming tendrils across every inch, sawing crimped leaves between his toes one after the other then all at once.

Face redder than it had ever been, eyes shut painfully tight, the chestnut-haired one managed to clamp both hands nigh-magnetically tight over his mouth, shaking and quivering, cheeks puffing; snickersnorts already hissing out his nose.

Finally, the supervisor seemed to be satisfied, stepping back as the delivery-liens swung the doors shut. The loud noise apparently startled the flora as well, which ceased their attack for the moment. Relieved, the boy let out the “AHAHAHAA!” he’d been holding in before sighing and picking himself up. Quickly rubbing his feet on the cool metal floor, he darted to the loading doors. Finding them unbudgable, he pivoted, running back to the opposite side of the chamber and sliding a hand flat onto it. Blinking, he pressed his ear where his hand had been, closing his eyes to try and shift his focus to his hearing. Aside from the low hum and rumble of the ship moving forward, there was only the tense silence between him and the sentient foliage.

“Ohh,” Speed uttered, now rapping on the wall with his knuckles a few times. “Sounds thick. If I can’t hear them, then they probably can’t hear me, either.”

By the time he’d begun to realize what that meant, all the mischievous flora sent their long leaves and tendrils at him, grabbing him by the wrists, arms, shins, and ankles, and collectively yanking him back down where he grunted at the impact, flinching. He didn’t have another few seconds before the plants resumed their coordinated merciless tickle-attack.

HAHAhahaHA! AHAHAHAA! NoHO please waiHAIT! STOP! StahaHAAP!” His eyes momentarily widened, more tears beading at their corners when what looked like two flowering foxglove stems began swirling in his sleeves. He quickly resumed his grinning wince and limited thrashing, however. “NAHA! NOHOO! GAHAHAA!”

Meanwhile, in the ship cabin, the two aliens sat back, gazes meeting again. “So like, how far is it to this Œarth place again?”

“Well, minus the serious space traffic hitting the Milky Way, usually like…sixteen hours or something,” the driver replied. “But it’s cool, once we get past the busted Supernova, we can kick this thing into auto and just chillool…” though he already withdrew his hands from the wheel, laying them behind his head as he rested his feet on the wheel with a contented sigh — blissfully unaware of their stowaway in a near-identical position.


	11. The Prints & The Tresspasser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Ugh. Poor Speed's _literally_ literally tortured saga continues. Also bonus points for anyone who recognizes the urban legend alluded to here.

A smile still plastered on his face, the unconscious chestnut-haired one fell in a flop from where he’d been unknowingly cocooned by one of the larger plants — which had since been planted. With a grunt, lids fluttering in a slight wince, he pushed himself up on his elbow before weakly rising, pushing on the wet muddy grass then his own thigh. He and the plants stood on a small hill beneath a rather large pine tree at the edge of a fairly vast lake.

Shivering at the cold misting rain, he pivoted, looking around. “I guess they dropped these off in the middle of nowhere! …unless this is a reserve of some kind, but…” Segueing into a head-hanging sigh, he picked a direction at random and began heading that way.

The boy’s heart beat a little faster as the landscape seemed Earthly enough — though even for a world traveler, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the region or country he might be in. Things were relatively calm until he reached a smooth stone-paved road, and was suddenly at 180° of bayonet-point.

With a twitch and a gasp, he froze — then with a defeated sigh, sank to a sit much like he’d done when first confronted by the Akan tribe in the African jungle years ago. However, these locals quickly grabbed his arms, roughly yanking him to his feet again with almost enough force to wrench them from his shoulders. “OW! Hey…please let go, you’re hurting me!” Despite this, he was still relieved to see fellow human beings and feel something besides relentless tickling for a change. Opening one eye from his wince, he asked “I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done, I didn’t mean it! Where am I, anyway?”

“You’re in the Kingdom of Saint-Exupéry,” explained one guard. “And King Antoine Bésixdouze de Chasse takes great pride in every square centimeter in his city! And you’re ruining it by tracking mud everywhere!”

Glancing down, Speed blinked. “Ohh, I’m very sorry, sirs! And to his His Majesty! I…just woke up…from…being knocked out, sort of…” his eyes darted as he attempted to reflexively put a hand to the back of his head, though couldn’t in his restraint “and I didn’t know where I was or whose the land was. I promise I’ll clean up —”

“You will be cleaned up,” another guard reiterated, tightening his grip, “but first you ought to have an audience with the King! Come along!”

“Nngh! Okay…” the chestnut-haired one acknowledged. After a few more minutes shuffling toward the castle on the other side of the castle town, he ventured “So, is this France? I’ve gotten very lost lately and I’m not sure where I am. I just want to make sure.”

“France? What the hell is ‘France’?” yet another guard asked plainly.

The boy felt a cold pulse. “I-It’s a country. In Europe.”

“What are you babbling? …well, no matter. This is the proud country of Taured! West of Iberia and east of Gallia, we’ve been a formidable force across all Frangistan for the last thousand years!”

Speed’s heart sank a little, along with his stomach. “So I’m not home,” he whispered to himself, eyes closed, trying to stave off the pang of tears, “I was stupid to get my hopes up and even try! Now I don’t know if I’ll ever get back…”

Suddenly, he felt a whack to the back of his head, not quite a knockout punch, but enough to make him wince and grunt. “Quit mumbling!”

“Sorry,” he offered. The same guard raised his arm, but paused, letting it drop with a snort and a shake of his head.  
___

“Hmm…” King Antoine mused, shifting on his throne, jaw in hand. “Well, since you took five muddy steps on my beautiful bridge, your feet will be cleaned for five days!”

“Huh?!” the boy uttered, eyes wide, instinctively adding “I can clean my own feet!”

He got a back-of-the-leg kick from one of the remaining two guards holding him by the upper arms. “If the King says he wants you cleaned, you will be cleaned!”

Glancing down at them, the boy felt an all-too-familiar twinge, almost seeing and feeling soapy bristles at his soles and toes again. He cringed, letting out a “Ghnn — ah!” as he was yanked in a drag back to the main hall.  
___

The chestnut-haired one stared at the medieval-looking stone ceiling. His wrists cuffed overhead, ankles cuffed in a raised splay that bent his knees at a 90° as if he’d been sitting in a chair that toppled backwards. Another handful of guards or perhaps other lower class underlings surrounded him, wielding scrub brushes with handles long enough to double as quant poles. A bucket of fairly hot water was unceremoniously thrown at him, drenching most of his legs and pants that had begun to tatter again not unlike they had during his jungle trek.

The mud by now had caked, but even so, the ever mouth-curling tingling drag of the brushes’ bristles darted up his legs. Twitching what little he could, he laid his head to one side with a low squealy slur of “Aiieehehee! NO! Ihit tiHIcklHLHLlllles, pleeease!” Miraculously, it also seemed his ‘meds’ had run down again — and he could only hope that with the remote lost in another galaxy, no one would or could tap into them again.

“Then you’ll be tickled for five days!” reiterated one of his handlers, “But we will obey King Antoine’s orders to the letter!”

A few hours in and they’d finally cleared the dirt. “Look! My feet are clean now!” he quickly insisted, “ there’s —!”

“So I see,” one man muttered, “well, there has to be a way to dirty them up again, isn’t there?”

The rest of them chorused with chuckles. Once again, Speed spied the bucket — but the water it splashed was comparatively cold; smelled of herbs and tasted like seawater. “Salt water…” he mumbled to himself, tensing “Oh no! NonononoNONONO —!”

Leading them like horses with some kind of reins, another man walked to the end of the table with quite large creatures that seemed to be a combination of boar and porcupine, though their coats looked strangely enough more like leaves and vines than quills. With a few sniffs, they eagerly began lapping at the boy’s soles toes and all, occasionally taking his entire foot into their maws for moments at a time, licking and slurping.

“AAHAHAHA! NOHOHO DOHON’T LIHIHAHAHA!” the chestnut-haired one’s eyes jolted open wide again before sealing in a helpless grinning cringe. “HAHAHAHAHAAA!”

Though this time the wave of water had crested much wider, soaking him up to the elbows. A couple more leafy-maned boarcupines trotted in at the scent and sniffed and licked at his trunk, arms, face, and neck as well.

“AGGH! HAHAhahahaHAHAHA!” Speed howled, flailing his head solidly now, though with every turn, it only seemed to let one of their tongues slip and lick closer, nerves firing off, chest pounding with guffaws. “GET OFF GEHET OHOFF!”

Finally, with a few snorts, all of the beasts lost interest and ambled away, again guided by one of the men. When he returned, they all stood a bit closer around him, snickering and grinning. “Well, we were tasked to clean his feet — but he’s completely filthy now! We’ll have to improvise…”

“Indeed. As the King would have it, and no less!” chimed another.

With a whine that led into more high-pitched laughter, the boy writhed as they now sent their brushes skimming across his stomach and sides, sliding up under his still intact shirt to scrub at his ribs and underarms; even more prodding and swishing into his shirtsleeves, under his collar, over chin, cheeks, chest, and neck. “HAHAHAHAA! AHAA! ENOHOUGH ENOUGH ENOHOHOUGH! GAHAHAHAAAAHA!”

“Not until sunset,” bid yet another, smiling mischievously broad. “And even then, certainly not — your punishment has only barely started its first day. We will see to it you suffer for your misdeeds to the last hour of our King’s decree!”  
“BUHUT I’LL DIE BY THEHEHEN!”  
“Then I pity you.”  
“NOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOO!”  
___

After only one more day stuck in the dingy dungeon, Speed was long marched up a dirty muddy path up a hill toward a river reservoir. After getting another unbearably tingly scrub, they pinned him to a wooden table they’d set up, half-rubbing, half-finger-combing some sort of feed all over his feet top to bottom. He was then roughly hoisted and slid into what looked like a cross between a ducking stool and a basic bucket. Once his legs slid through the holes, feet splashing into the water, they pushed down on the rim, pinning his thighs so he couldn’t move, even barely curl his toes to try and foil the hungry fish and other river dwellers that swirled and slid, making endless tiny nibbles and nips.

“HmhmhmHMHM! HaahaHAhaha! AHAHA!” he weakly guffawed while wriggling what bare minimum he could. His arms had been tightly swept back and pinned behind him with more rope, leaving his ribs open to the digging, dirty wiggling fingers of his captors. “BwaaAAHA! HAHAHA! HeHEY, stAHAAAP!”

The guard snickered, almost in time with the boy’s giggling. “Heh! Fat chance! As long as we’re punishing you, His Majesty wouldn’t care if we livened things up a little! And we’re gonna have some fun with you today! As long as the daylight’ll let us – thought we’ve got plenty of torches and oil, too. We’ll just have to see what happens, won’t we, ya muddy little mutt? Kitcha kitcha!”

“AHAHAHA! Ahaha! AhaHAHE’ll faint!” he managed to bleat through a watery squint.

“Ohoho, so? We’ve got plenty of salts to bring you to, or if we’re feeling generous, we might let you nap a little so you’re fully awake for the encore!”

After another guard joined the first in a double-team that pushed him to more wheezy near-silent laughter, the pair looked down to see that the fishes had finally finished. With a mumble, they withdrew.

“Ohh…ohohohhhh…is it over?”  
“Do you see a sunset yet, you mangy no-gooder? It’s barely noon!”  
“But then — gyaah!”

Hauled back to the table, he was given another hearty scrub from toes to heels, tarsi to soles. Then attentively garnished and slipped back into the stool, another pair of the men paying unrelenting attention to his armpits, neck, and shoulders. “Heheheh! Just like scratching a dog! This is fun, eh?”

“AIIEEHAHA! MAHAYBEHEHE FOR YOUHOU! HAHAHAAA! I – AHAE! I CAHAN’T BREHEATHE!”

“If you quit trying to talk, you might have the breath left to take your punishment like a man, you weakly rascal!”

“HAHAHEHEHEAAHA!”  
___

Finally, before he could fully faint, they tugged him out of his bonds, holding him tight at a wobbly stand as they crafted a sort of raft – though the slats were far too wide to be buoyant. Instead, they lay him on it, sprinkling and slinging the sticky feed over him head to toe before giving the frame a vocalized heave, letting it sink into the shallower water.

Before the fish could feast again, the chestnut-haired one felt a very distinct sharp pain in his ear as the water flooded it that radiated through his skull, making him buck and tense with an “OWWW! OWOWOW…owOW!” teeth gritted in steeled jaws, turning his head as equally sharply.

“WHOAwhoawhoa!” one of his wordier captors said, raising a flat palm. “Something’s off — here, bring him back up to shore!”

Finally out of the water, the pain subsided enough to let the boy utter a whining sigh and partially relax, though kept his neck tightly twisted. Grabbing his head, he heard the guards muttering and organizing themselves until finally one of them reached into his ear and began tugging. At first it only made more sheer pain that squeezed fresh tears from his eyes – before finally the tight pressure began to loosen, the pain receding until his temples lightly throbbed, though only left a relieved ache and a slight itch.

“What is all THIS mess?!” one of the men cried. Opening an eye, even for as blurry as his sight was, Speed could tell instantly.

“Ohhh! That must be that contraption Chirca and her people put inside me! That ‘medicine’ dispensary, oouggh…good riddance!”

“Medicine, eh?” one of the men’s gruff voices rang closely, though the one who’d retrieved it made a face and quickly tossed it with a gaggish sound of his own, likely at its putrid goopiness.

“All right, let’s tighten these bonds and get this feeder back to the fish, shall we?” said another guard with a cackle. Heart racing – an oddly comforting feeling, despite the situation – Speed swung himself to a sit, slipping out of the still-loose ropes and half-diving, half-rolling off the spaced planks and onto the gritty muddy shore.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” the most vocal of his tormentors chided, grabbing for his ankle and vigorously wiggle-raking fingers over his sole. However, now, the boy barely twitched, quickly grinning and again laughing of his own accord.

“HA! I TOLD them I wasn’t naturally that ticklish!” he crowed, brows lowering and rather happily unleashing his classic brand of family buttkick. With a wide close-fisted swipe to the jaw, he sent the last soldier toppling into the reeds.

Pausing to catch his breath, Speed turned like a prairie dog until he decided on a direction to sprint in, quickly veering off the dirt path and through the tall willowy grass. Compared to the full blast of the nerve agents, he felt almost numb. Like a strange sort of room-temperature frostbite. Still genuinely smiling wide, he slowed to a brisk walk, searching for some sort of sign of civilization he could slip off to join and hide in.

One plain roadsign pointed him to a nearby village, and from there, in the square, oddly, he found a bulletin board with an advertisement for an airport. “Huh? Taured International. New flights to –” and drew the loudest gasp he’d likely ever emitted in his life “– JAPAN! Now there’s a country I recognize! I’ve GOT to get on that plane! I’VE JUST GOT TO!”  
___

By a miracle and a half, he’d walked into the terminal at the tail end of a large family on vacation. By even more of one, his bare feet, roughly worn-away pantcuffs, rank wet shirt, and dirty face had attracted absolutely no additional attention, and the gate attendant had barely given him a second glance. Not even the family – though perhaps Frangistinian social customs were pleasantly lax.

Thankfully, there was one spare empty seat at the very back of the plane. It was a bit chilly and slightly cramped, but the thought of at least getting back to the Earth he knew, somehow, gave him enough peace to doze off. He smiled broadly in his sleep. Whatever hurdles he’d still have to face before truly heading home at last, none would be as bad as escaping space bureaucrats and an oddly OCD king.  
___

With a wide yawn and a stretch, he rose from his stowaway curl and followed the rest of the passengers off the plane. Indeed, the signs and staff on the other side of the jetway doorway looked as down to earth as he’d ever seen them.

However, as such, they did take quick notice of the dirty asylum seeker and stopped him, before briskly escorting him to a small office/interrogation room.

“Who are you? Where are you from? You’re not on the manifest!” one officer noted.

Clutching at his matted hair, Speed sighed, eyes darting, “Well, I –” and then spied a folded newspaper at the edge of the table. With a smirk, he unfolded it, holding it with a thumb press at a most recognizable snapshot. “See? This is me! I’ve been…well…it’s a long story, but the short of it is: I’ve been away from home for a VERY very long time and I’m dying to get home to my family! PLEASE. Please let me go. I’ll pay for whatever damages I’ve caused, I promise.”

“…Speed Racer?!” uttered another official, tugging his glasses closer across the bridge of his nose as he stared at the photo, then returning his gaze to the boy. “Why, you’re right – it IS you! Oh, Speed, good lord, what’s happened to you? No worries, we’ll let you get cleaned up and we’ll make sure you get home to your family right away!”

Still grinning broadly, the boy flinched, tears rolling down his mudsplotched cheeks. “THANK YOU.”

“It’s late, so we’ll put you up for the night, But we’ll get you back home to your family first thing tomorrow morning!”

The chestnut-haired one nodded, taking a tissue from the box they handed him and wiping his eyes, as well as scrubbing at his cheeks a bit.  
___

Warmed, self-cleaned bare feet sliding deep into fresh clean white sheets, Speed let out a lengthy contented sigh and let the mattress take his weight. The ceiling blurred, swam, and split a little in his fatigue, and he finally let his eyes close with a last deep breath and sigh. “I’m going home…I’m really going home…!” he mumbled.

He barely dreamt, though swore he heard a strange voice. Then another. Both young and female – speaking Japanese in voices that almost sounded like schoolgirl banter from an anime. He’d only just opened an eye to glimpse the clock read 1:45AM before a sharp hot pain to the back of his crown sent his lids crashing in more sheer unconsciousness.


End file.
